


An Arkadian Christmas Carol

by IsolationShepherd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A Christmas Carol, Christmas, Christmas fic, Fun, Gen, Kabby, Some angst, Then more fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8587402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsolationShepherd/pseuds/IsolationShepherd
Summary: This is the tale of Marcus Kane, a miserable man. Uptight, humourless and gloomy he is a man with no friends and no appetite for fun. Christmas means nothing to him and he cancels it for the 100 delinquents currently locked up in the Sky Box. Kane lives a solitary existence and he likes it that way. On the night of our tale he is visited by a ghostly apparition determined to help him see the folly of his ways. Three ghosts later will Kane be a changed man? Will he find love with his nemesis Abby Griffin? Will our Christmas tale end in joy for all, or abject misery? Dear Reader, I invite you to begin the tale, to find out...With apologies to Mr Charles Dickens- I present The 100 version of A Christmas Carol, set before the start of Season 1.





	1. Jaha's Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Christmas ghost story in five parts. I will be posting roughly a chapter a week in order to finish before Christmas.

The tale I am about to narrate takes place in the year 2149 on an ailing space station orbiting planet Earth. It is Christmas Eve, seven years to the day since the death of Seymour Jaha, the former Chancellor and Marcus Kane’s mentor and only friend. Kane has not marked the day, indeed does not even remember it is the anniversary as he is not a man given to sentiment.

No, Kane is a cold man, with something of the night about him. His dark hair is short and greased so that no lock can escape its neat confines. He’s pale-faced, with steely eyes flint-sharp. Oh how they spark when he’s angry, which is most of the time. A grumpy, contrary, irritable, obstinate, cantankerous man! Uptight and solitary, he bears no fellowship, and few have tried. No smile cracks those thin, bloodless lips; no laugh lines crease his eyes.

Tall and imposing he strides round the Ark black-clothed and jackbooted. People shiver as he passes, for he carries his own dark cloud about him, black as his temper and just as vicious. It swirls around his feet as he walks. He never has a close companion for who would want to follow in such a dank and chilly shadow? Even his guard keep a respectful distance so as not to be engulfed or subject to a hard look of disapproval and contempt.

Few people dare venture a word in greeting or care to ask how he is. He brooks no familial conversation, no airy chit or chat. He’s a man of business, straightforward, to the point. A busy man has no time for frivolities and there’s no man busier than Kane. He’s head of the Guard, Second-in-Command. He inspires respect and fear in equal measure. His job is to enforce the laws of the Ark and he does so with a ruthless efficiency. Ark Law is harsh and draconian for the Arkers have too many people and not enough resources. All crimes are capital crimes, punishable by floatation. It takes a strong man to uphold such laws, and Kane is that man. Trusted by both Jahas, esteemed by most of the Council he does his job diligently and well.

On this evening, we find Kane in the command centre standing at a row of monitors. There are no windows in here and the lights are low, the screens bathing the room in an eerie glow. Kane’s face is lit from beneath as he leans over a monitor, giving his pale skin a grey pallor, making his eyes loom large and liquid, black as the deepest, darkest lake you ever saw. He’s monitoring the Ark’s oxygen levels which have been low ever since a young man organised an illegal spacewalk to impress his girl. Heaven spare him idiots in love. What some people will do to get the girl he can hardly believe. Kane rarely bothers with women, finding them needy and overly emotional. His ideal woman would talk little and meet up only when their baser urges got the better of them. He had yet to find such a woman on the Ark, and as there was nowhere else to go, he was resigned to a life alone and that suited him just fine.

The door to the command centre opened and the distant sound of Christmas carolling entered the room. Kane grimaced. He couldn’t understand why the Arkers kept up this ridiculous tradition. The Ark was packed with heathens, and the few worshippers there were bowed before a tiny tree and dreamt of poisoned, barren Earth. Yet every December they brought out threadbare strings of tinsel and tattered paperchains. Fairy lights adorned the metal walls making the Ark look more like Nygel’s brothel than a place of work and business. _(If I may interject on Kane’s behalf here for a moment, dear reader, he only knows the inside of the brothel from the many raids he has carried out, not from personal experience you understand.)_

The Carollers amassed each Christmas Eve and assaulted the senses of passers-by with their out-of-tune warbling. Kane had a sensitive ear for good music and it pained him particularly to hear the tunes so woefully treated. Hark the Herald Angels Sing was currently being massacred. There were certainly no angelic voices singing in that choir Kane thought, and something played on his lips that to him was a smile but to others was more like a sneer. In the Bleak Midwinter was the only carol Kane would even vaguely entertain but only the Holst setting, not that damned awful Darke version people were so fond of. Christmas! He thought. Bah Humbug!

He looked up from his monitor and the reason for the door opening was standing in front of him with her arms crossed. The dark, shrivelled stone that passed for Kane’s heart sank into his stomach. He looked around but there was no escape from Abby Griffin. Her minion, Jackson, was standing in front of the only exit like an eager puppy pretending to be a guard dog. Kane raised himself to his full height and gave Abby his most penetrating stare which usually was enough to make the bravest of men shake in their boots. It had no effect on the good doctor. She stood as tall as anyone of five foot nothing could do and stared back. Her brown eyes were flashing with a fury she could barely contain. It swirled around her like a lightning storm and as usual, its thunderbolts were directed at him.

“What’s the meaning of this, Kane?” She was direct, was Abby Griffin. It’s the only thing about her he admired.

She shook a tablet in front of him and pointed at the screen. Kane was forced to come out from the safety of the monitors to see what she was referring to.

“If you want me to read it you’ll have to hold still.”

Abby handed him the tablet, pinching the screen to zoom in on a notice so he couldn’t fail to see what she was mad about. It was a directive signed by Kane earlier that day preventing the Ark prisoners from having Christmas decorations in their rooms, eating Christmas dinner or receiving any presents. He’d mandated for one five minute visit with a close relative and that was begrudgingly and only because Jaha wanted to see his son Wells.

“I don’t see the problem here,” Kane said. “This is an Ark directive and was ratified at a Council meeting. A meeting YOU were not at, might I say.”

“There was a medical emergency, but that’s not the point. These measures are cruel and unnecessary. Where’s the harm in some tinsel and tofurkey? _(There are no turkeys on the Ark, dear reader, they’re in space and have to make do with a mushroom-based alternative. I know, I know, but they’re used to it.)_ It’s Christmas! Families should be together on Christmas Day.”

Kane shook his head. Here was the very epitome of an overly emotional woman. You’d think as a doctor she’d be more clinical but unfortunately Dr Griffin lets her heart rule her head. She had frequent outbursts, mostly because of things he had done that offend her sensibilities. It was going to get her into trouble one of these days.

“They’re prisoners, Abby. Delinquents. Bad behaviour should be punished, not rewarded.”

In actual fact, Kane thought having to eat tofurkey and stare at tinsel was a punishment in itself but others didn’t see it that way. Last year, when he was away on another station training new guards, unsupervised visits were allowed in Lockup and all hell broke loose. Illegal moonshine was added to the water supply, tofurkey was smeared all over the walls and fights broke out in the visitors’ room as bitter rivalries and long-held resentments bubbled over. He was determined this was not going to happen on his watch. He was cancelling Christmas for the 100 delinquents currently occupying the Sky Box. Unfortunately for Abby Griffin, that included her daughter Clarke.

“They’re children, Kane. It’s just one day. Can’t you be merciful just one time in your miserable existence?”

Kane sighed. He wasn’t going to give in. Not only because he didn’t agree with her but also because if he gave in once he would never hear the end of it. If she spotted a weakness she would pick and pick and pick at it until a huge hole opened and swallowed him up. He didn’t want to end up like Jackson, following her around with his big daft eyes and tongue hanging out.

“I’m sorry, Abby,” _(he wasn’t)_ “but I’ve made my decision. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

He returned his gaze to the monitor, not really looking at the data, just waiting for her to take the hint and leave him alone. She didn’t go immediately; he could feel her glare burning a hole in the top of his head but he ignored it and pressed some random buttons so that he looked busy.

After a few seconds he heard the whoosh of the door as it closed and looked up. He was alone again, thank heavens. A peaceful hour passed with no interruptions until the door opened again and Sinclair entered. Kane was actually glad to see him because he had some jobs he wanted him to complete.

“Kane.”

“Sinclair.”

“I just came to see if you wanted anything more from me before I finish for the holiday?”

“As a matter of fact I do, yes. I’ve spent a few hours going over the oxygen data and I may have spotted an anomaly that might mean our calculations so far have been wrong.”

He handed Sinclair a tablet with numerous spreadsheets and data tables open on the screen.

Sinclair took the tablet and sighed, looking at Marcus with frustrated eyes. “This will take me hours to do, a whole day maybe.”

“Then you’d better get started. We need to know if we have more oxygen available than we thought.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, Kane. There’s a carol concert about to start in the Mess Hall and I’ve promised my wife I’ll spend time with her tomorrow. I hardly ever see her these days.”

“So you’re going to want all day off tomorrow, then?”

“If that’s okay with you? If you think we might have more oxygen than we thought then one more day won’t hurt, will it?”

Kane frowned. He wasn’t a patient man and having to wait for the report was going to be excruciating. He might as well do it himself. If nobody was around tomorrow he’d have plenty of peace and quiet to do it in. “If that’s what you want, then I suppose I can’t argue. You’ll be here first thing on the 26th though?”

Sinclair smiled faintly and headed for the door with what seemed like unseemly haste to Kane. “I’ll be here bright and breezy.”

“No need for that,” said Kane. “Just be on time.”

Sinclair left and Kane followed soon after. He wanted to stop at the Mess Hall to pick up some dinner to take back to his quarters.

Opening the door to the Mess he immediately regretted his decision. The carol concert was in full swing and a large group of people was singing around a small tree. The tree was adorned with a solitary silver fairy light and a ragged bit of tinsel that had once been red but was now faded to a horrible kind of salmon pink. Kane hated that tree. He’d had to endure weekly services of praise when a child and empty a tiny pipette of water onto the dry soil in commemoration. It was the Last Tree from Earth, the Eden Tree, and he supposed it had a historical significance. However, it had been up here for a century and had not grown an inch. It barely thrived in the recycled atmosphere of the Ark where no natural daylight ever penetrated. To the Arkers it was a symbol of the Earth and their spiritual home. To Kane it was a symbol of the Ark and their miserable existence as the generation who will go nowhere, do nothing, except wait and keep everything the same until another century has passed. The tree was stifled, he was stifled and Kane hated it.

His mother was at the centre of the throng as usual, eyes glowing, face smiling, singing her heart out as she conducted the ragtag choir with gusto. She caught his eye and motioned for him to join them but he shook his head and turned towards the dispensary. If she got her claws into him tonight she would not let go.

Armed with his protein cube and hard biscuit Kane went back to his quarters. As he reached out to press the button to open the door he was startled to see Seymour Jaha’s face staring out at him, paler than in life but unmistakeable. What is this nonsense? He looked harder. The button was just a button again. He felt strangely discomfited by the vision, but he pressed the button with a slight trepidation and entered his room. He looked around carefully at the cold grey walls and dark grey metal floor. There was his desk with its neat pile of transparencies and carefully placed stylus. His bed was as it should be, covers smoothed and tucked in with hospital corners. No one was under the table or under the bed. Everything seemed to be in order.

Kane went over to his closet and swapped his work attire for his sleepwear – a tattered grey t-shirt and grey pants. Kane owned nothing of colour. Black clothes for working, grey clothes for sleeping and nothing in between. It kept life simple, and that’s how he liked it. 

He settled into his chair and turned his stereo on. He was still angry with Abby and annoyed at Sinclair so he chose Wagner to soothe his foul mood. The sweeping melodies and dissonant harmonies of Der Ring des Nibelungen always lifted him, were a balm to the darkest depths of his black soul. He ate his meagre dinner, considered treating himself to a finger of his hundred-year-old Lagavulin whisky which he only drank on special occasions. The last time was five years ago when Seymour’s son, Thelonious Jaha, made him Second-in-Command. He decided the occasion didn't warrant even a sip of the whisky but he opened the bottle, held it to his nose and inhaled its peaty, antiseptic aroma. Kane is not given to sentiment. He doesn’t memorialise the past or think much about the future. He lives in the present and takes each day as it comes. Nevertheless, the whisky does make him think of his ancestral home, in the Highlands of Scotland. Nearly a hundred years ago his great grandfather was lucky enough to be working on the UK space station when a nuclear apocalypse devastated the Earth, if you can call being doomed to live in a tin can in space lucky. Kane didn’t think so, but there was nothing to be done about it, so he got up each day, did his job as best he could and endured.

Gradually he became aware of an unusual sound in the room. It was quiet at first, like the rattle of seeds in a musical shaker he had played with as a child. Soon the rattling became louder, taking on a more metallic timbre, as though someone were tapping out a frantic rhythm on the walls of the Ark. Kane went to his door and looked outside into the corridor. There was no one nearby and the corridor was silent, no rattling, no metallic tapping could be heard. He closed the door and the sound returned again. It was in his room and nowhere else. As we have established, Kane was not given to flights of fancy and he dismissed the sounds as humbug. It was probably one of the kids playing a trick.

The rattling and tapping ceased but was replaced by a loud clanking that Kane couldn’t place at first. Everything on the Ark was electrical and operated smoothly but he had seen snippets of old films and it sounded like the clanking of chains as they lifted an old roller door.

“It’s humbug still!” said Kane. “I won’t believe it.”

He was forced to believe it soon enough when a figure materialised through the door. Kane’s already pale face blanched white as the being came into the room and settled before him. Kane recognised him and said out loud in shock: “It’s Jaha’s ghost!”

It was indeed the ghost of his old friend and former Chancellor Seymour Jaha. It had his dark skin, regal nose and greying beard. He was wearing an outfit like Kane had seen Bedouins wearing in history books. A long flowing robe covered his body and his head was wrapped in a cloth. Round his waist he wore a heavy chain. Kane looked closely and saw it was made up of scrap parts of the Ark, steel wires, rivets, keypads and gears. At the same time he realised he could see straight through Jaha to the door behind him.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. “Who are you?” he cried. “What do you want with me?”

“It is not who I am but who I was. Ask me who I used to be.”

Kane felt ridiculous talking to a ghost. In the back of his mind he considered that he had maybe opened the whisky after all and was having an alcohol-induced dream. He decided to play along anyway.

“Who were you then?”

“In life I was your friend and mentor, Seymour Jaha.”

“Are you able to sit down?” asked Kane. Jaha was making him uncomfortable standing between him and the door. He would much prefer it if they could sit opposite each other but he didn’t know if ghosts were able to sit.

“I can,” said Jaha.

“Then please do,” replied Kane, motioning to the chair in the corner of the room. Kane sat on the sofa opposite and studied the ghost.

“You don’t believe in me, Kane?”

“Of course I don’t. There are no such things as ghosts.”

“But you can see me, and hear me. Why do you disbelieve what is plainly before you?”

“There are many scientific and rational explanations for your presence. I may have drunk too much whisky, the food may have been bad. In fact,” he said, warming to his theme, “the oxygen levels must have dropped for some reason. I’m suffering from cerebral hypoxia and am hallucinating. There, that must be it.” Kane was satisfied with his explanation, but Jaha was shaking his head.

“Perhaps this will convince you.” He proceeded to unwrap the cloth from his head and Kane recoiled in horror for without the cloth to hold it up, Jaha’s jaw separated from the rest of his head and fell upon his chest.

“Have mercy, Jaha!” cried Kane. “What is this horror?”

“Do you believe me now, Kane?”

“I do, I do. Please return the cloth to your head and cover your face. I can’t bear to look at you like that.”

Jaha did as requested, his heavy chain clanging about him as he moved.

“Why are you haunting me like this? What forces you to walk the Ark when you are seven years dead and floated into space?”

“All men’s spirits should walk among others, Kane, seeing other lives, meeting other people, broadening the mind, preferably while still alive. Those who do not venture into the world of other people are forced to do so when dead. I didn’t often leave the Council Chamber when alive, Kane. I knew little of the lives of my fellow man.”

The ghost waved his hands in the air as he spoke, as Jaha was wont to do in real life and his chains rattled again.

“Why are you wearing that chain?”

“I made this chain myself from the pieces of my life. Perhaps you recognise it? How the fragments come together so that the whole is heavy and weighs me down?”

Kane looked around him, half expecting to see chains around his own body, but he was still free. He folded his arms, watching Jaha as he stretched out in the chair.

“Have you been travelling for all these seven years?”

“I have,” said Jaha. “I’ve travelled the universe, across measureless fathoms of space, seeing countless worlds, each more wonderful than the last. I have visited Earth and each Ark station. At this time of year I suffer most. Why did I go through my life never seeing, never knowing the life that existed outside of the Council? I knew no joy, saw no light.”

“But you had Thelonious,” said Kane, referring to Seymour’s son and the current Chancellor.

“Have you met Thelonious?” cried the ghost. “Where is the joy in such a son?”

Kane couldn’t disagree with that. Jaha’s distress moved even Kane. He didn’t like to see his old friend and mentor so upset.

“My time is nearly gone, Kane. You must listen to me.”

“Please tell me, Jaha. What do you have to say to me?”

“I am here tonight to warn you that you still have a chance to escape my fate, if you so choose. You will be haunted by Three Spirits.”

Kane was dismayed at this. One Jaha was bad enough. Three more? “Is that my only hope, Jaha?”

“It is.”

Kane didn’t like this idea at all. “I’d rather not if it’s all the same.”

“You have no choice if you want to live a different life to me, Kane. Expect the first one tomorrow at One. The second on the next night at the same time and the third the night after that. Remember our conversation, Kane.”

With those words Jaha turned and disappeared through the window. Kane went immediately to the window and looked out. Floating out in space, illuminated by a ghostly moon were dozens of spirits all chained like Jaha. Kane recognised a few of them; they were the people he had floated over the years for committing crimes. There was Jake Griffin, who Jaha had floated while Kane stood by and John Murphy Senior who’d stolen medicines for his young son.

Kane turned away from the window, heartsick at the sight of so many poor souls unable to find rest. He wanted to dismiss the whole business but something stopped him. A heaviness came over him and his limbs grew tired. He got into bed and was asleep within a moment.

 


	2. The First of the Three Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane meets the Ghost of Christmas Past

Kane was woken from his slumber by the buzzing of his alarm. He didn’t feel as though he had been asleep more than five minutes but when he looked at the clock the digital reading announced that it was twelve in bold red figures. He was confused. He had set the alarm for five-thirty as usual. He supposed it was possible he’d set it for the wrong time in his exhausted state last night. It had been past two in the morning when he went to sleep so if the clock is right that must mean he’s slept until midday or even more improbably all the way through the day and half the night. It was unheard of for Kane to sleep more than five hours. He didn’t have much use for sleep, considering it a waste of valuable working time.

It was dark in his room but that didn’t mean anything; it was dark numerous times a day on the Ark. Kane groaned as he pushed the covers back and swung his legs out of bed. Memories of the vision he’d had last night or whenever the hell that was were at the forefront of his mind. The air in his room had a chill; the walls and floor seemed to shine as though they were covered in a frost like he’d seen in the many awful Christmas films his mother had made him watch as a child. The floor was cold beneath his feet and felt slimy. He got up carefully and slipped his bare feet into his boots. He shivered as he crossed his room to the door. The temperature on the Ark was carefully regulated; something must have gone wrong with it overnight. He resolved to have a word with Sinclair whether it was Christmas Day or not. The Ark was more important than a silly holiday.

Kane opened the door and looked out, expecting to see people bustling along the corridor if it was midday. The corridor was quiet as the grave and much warmer than Kane’s room. Puzzled, he closed the door and went back into his room. “I can’t have slept all night and day,” he said out loud, his breath forming a misty cloud in front of his face. Unsure of what to do, but still feeling tired Kane got back into bed, pulling the covers up tight to his chin. Perhaps he was having a dream. Yes, that was it. Everything from seeing Jaha’s ghost to now was a horrible nightmare brought on by overwork or too much whisky. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself of that, though, he couldn’t get the memory of the apparition out of his mind; the sight of Jaha’s jaw loose and grotesque, the clank of the chains, the chill of the air. He glanced at the clock again. Fifteen minutes had gone by. Another forty-five to go and it would be One – the time Jaha had said he would receive a visit from another spirit.

The clock inched slowly towards the designated hour; each blink as the LED counter formed a new number raised Kane’s blood pressure another notch. At this rate he thought he would die of a heart attack before any ghost came to finish him off. At long last the display read 12.59 and his heart was racing, his brow sweaty. He breathed in time with each long second until finally the digits changed to 1.00. He held his breath in anticipation but nothing happened, there was no visitation, no ghost - creepy no-jawed Jaha or otherwise. Kane shook his head, reminding himself to be teetotal from now on. He felt out of control and he didn’t like it. He took a long breath and started to relax when suddenly a hand reached out from nowhere, took hold of the covers beneath his chin and pulled them down, exposing his body to the freezing air.

Kane cried out, he couldn’t help it, for standing before him, covers in hand, was a creature that was human in form but clearly a ghost because no human Kane had ever seen was see-through, although he could name a few people he knew who might as well be invisible for all the good they were. It was child-sized, with small hands and short legs, but had the appearance of an old man. The wrinkles on its translucent skin rippled as it shimmered in the air. Its eyes were bright though, bluer than the Earth’s oceans and set large in the small face. Kane couldn’t help but stare at them as they stayed bright even though the opacity of the rest of the creature changed from almost opaque to almost transparent. It never became truly solid and never disappeared. It wore a crown of holly and from its head came the most ethereal light Kane had ever seen, it pulsed and glowed, more beautiful than the aurora, more intense than the deepest sunset. If Kane believed in such things he would have said it was divine, but he didn’t so he settled for entrancing because that was the effect it was having on him.

“Are you the spirit Jaha told me to expect?” he asked, trying to sound calm and collected though he was in turmoil inside.

“I am.”

“Who are you?”

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

“I don’t understand. Whose past?”

“Yours of course. Why else would I be in your room?”

Kane frowned. This ghost had an attitude and he really didn’t need to be dealing with that at this time of night.

“Why are you here?”

“I am here for your own good.”

“An undisturbed night’s sleep would do me some good if it’s all the same.”

“Your redemption then. Come.”

The ghost took hold of Kane’s hand and made as though to fly off with him. Kane was alarmed.

“This is madness! I’m not a ghost, I’m human. I will fall!”

The ghost placed its hand over Kane’s shrivelled heart and he felt his anxiety fade away.

“Have no fear. I will not let you fall.”

With that they rose into the air and passed through the wall so they were out in the black of space, the Earth a bright blue beneath them, around them the hotchpotch of metal that made up the Ark and above them only the stars.

They passed through another wall and although the hallway they were in looked like all the other hallways on the Ark, at the end was a brightly lit room that was familiar to Kane.

“I know this place!” said Kane, looking at the wall-to-wall battery units and rows of control panels and monitors. A loud humming noise came from the room; he could feel it vibrating through the soles of his feet. “I grew up here.”

They were in Tesla station standing outside the main power centre where his father had worked and where a young Kane had spent many hours watching him, keeping a respectful silence, never allowed to touch anything but taking everything in. And there was his father, head bowed over a monitor, much like Kane was when we first met him. In fact he is very like Kane, the same dark hair and deep brown eyes, except his hair is too long and wavy; he doesn’t bother to tame it. Kane’s father cares even less what people think than his son does. His brow was furrowed in concentration for he is hard-working, diligent and single-minded _(the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree here, don’t you think, dear reader?)_ He looked up and turned and stared straight at them. A shiver ran through Kane as he remembered what it was like to have those cold eyes turned on him, narrowing as they rebuked him for some disappointment or another without needing to speak the words.

“Can he see us?” he asked the ghost for he now believed anything could be possible. He was tempted to speak, to say a word in greeting but before he could his father turned back to his work.

“He cannot. You may look upon their lives but they do not see yours.”

They left his father to his task and drifted through other parts of the station. People were moving around with a joyful purpose, chatting to each other, occasionally exchanging gifts before parting. He recognised many of them, some of his father’s workmates who were kinder to him, giving him extra rations when he was forced to spend long hours after school in the power station as his mother worked. The men were merry, singing Christmas carols as they made their way back to their quarters. Kane felt happy listening to them. It was a strange emotion, one he has rarely felt in his adult life _(don’t feel too sorry for him, dear, kind reader, for he has made choices and lives with the consequences)_ and he couldn’t understand where this pleasure in the happiness of others was coming from.

The Ghost took Kane into the break room and there, all alone at a table with his head bowed, frantically scribbling onto a tablet, sat young Marcus Kane. They moved to stand over the boy, who was unaware of their presence of course. Kane half expected to see his young self solving equations or making notes in his history book for those were his two favourite subjects. He was surprised to see that he was writing a story. It was a tale of pirates roaming through space on stolen spaceships, holding entire planets to ransom and stealing their treasure.

“Why there’s Greybeard, and Birdy the parrot!” _(Kane’s imagination was a little stunted dear reader; the child wasn’t that much different to the man)._ Kane had forgotten all about this childhood tale until confronted with the memory. He felt sorry for his younger self, alone so often, forced to make up companions to ease the solitude and loneliness. He thought back to the Ark choir he saw earlier, to that one young boy he’d seen standing slightly apart from the others, head down mumbling the words. He’d not given him a second thought but now he wished he’d gone up to him, patted him on the head or given him a biscuit, anything to lift his spirts if only for a second.

He didn’t have much time to reflect on this because they were off again, to another Christmas. Here, Kane was sixteen and a cadet in the Guard. He watched himself joking with his fellow cadet, Sinclair, saw his old leader, Captain Morrison, call the pair of them in to his office.

“If you can get all the boots polished and stored away you can have the night off. My wife and I are throwing a party later and you’re both invited. Not before you’ve done your chores, mind.”

There was nothing Kane and Sinclair wouldn’t have done to get to that party, because fun was in short supply on the Ark. Christmas was about the only time of the year people from other stations got together. Morrison was an important man, so there would be lots of interesting people at his party. You never saw such a whirlwind of activity as the two young men polished the boots with such vigour it’s amazing the leather didn’t wear through!

The party was in full swing when they arrived. Music was playing, old ballads from two hundred years ago by singers Kane had never heard of like Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong and Al Green. Captain Morrison was a huge history buff, specialising in twentieth century Americana and he’d inherited this love, together with a large collection of music, from his father. Sinclair soon went off with his girlfriend. _(Dear reader you will know her as that poor wife he rarely sees thanks to Kane.)_ Kane was standing alone in the corner of the room, taking in the festive decorations – the paperchains, tinsel and fairy lights that were remnants of the early settlers of the Ark and carefully maintained. Most of them were looking worse for wear after more than a century of use but young Kane thought they brightened the room up. Everything about the Ark was grey, from grey floors to grey walls and grey furniture, all cold metal, unloved and uninspiring. It was nice to see some colour around the place for once.

Speaking of colour, Kane noticed Abby Walters was at the party with her father, an engineer from Alpha station. He didn’t know her very well because she was two years’ younger than him and lived on a different station. He’d met her a few times over the years, though, when she accompanied her father on his maintenance visits to Tesla and she always spoke to him.

At fourteen Abby was well on her way to being a beauty. She had long brown hair flecked with gold and eyes the deepest brown Kane had ever seen. Her cheeks were still baby-plump and she hadn’t fully grown into her body. She was all legs, like a gazelle, and moved with a dancer’s grace. Kane knew he was okay-looking, plenty of girls had commented on it. He was tall and athletic. They trained hard as guard cadets and he was developing good muscle tone, not that anyone ever saw it under the uniform he had to wear all the time. Abby caught his eye and smiled. She whispered something to her father and then came over to Kane.

“Hello Marcus.”

“Abby.”

“I didn’t think I would see you here.”

“I didn’t know myself until an hour ago. I think old man Morrison has gone soft. He gave us the night off and invited us.”

“Just you and Sinclair?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Abby looked impressed. “Wow. What did you do to get such a treat?”

“I honestly don’t know, Abby. We’ve been working hard, so maybe he’s finally noticed that.”

“You always work hard. My dad told me.”

“Your dad talked about me?” Kane was incredulous. Why would he warrant a mention in the Walters household?

“Yeah. He said you helped him last time he was at Tesla station – something to do with a control panel problem. I don’t know what it was exactly.”

Abby laughed and Kane smiled. He remembered the incident now. He hadn’t given it much thought at the time but clearly Mr Walters had noticed.

“He thinks you’re great, my dad,” she continued, looking up at him through her eyelashes which Kane thought were impossibly long. They made her eyes look huge – a dark ocean he could easily drown in.

“Does he?” said Kane, feeling a warm glow, not just from her words but from the way she was looking at him. He decided to be bold. “And what do you think?”

A blush spread across her cheeks but she didn’t look down or get embarrassed. She looked him straight in the eye. “You’re okay.”

Kane could live with an okay from Abby Walters. Further emboldened by her smile and how close she was standing, right inside his personal space and close enough that he could smell her rosemary-scented hair, he took things a step further.

“Would you like to dance? The music’s lame, but…”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Kane took her by the hand and led her to the centre of the room where people were dancing to the slow beat of the song. He put his arms around her waist, she clasped hers round his neck and they swayed in time to the music, their bodies keeping a respectful distance at first, and then inching closer, drawn by the rhythm of the song. He could feel the heat from her body, the swell of her breasts as they pressed against him. He pulled her in tight so that there was nothing between them. She laid her head on his chest and she was so much shorter than him he could rest his chin on top of her head. Strands of her hair brushed his lips and he wanted so badly to kiss her but this wasn’t the time, or the place. The singer was lamenting that it was ‘funny how time slips away’ and Kane couldn’t agree more because it seemed like no more than a few seconds before the song ended and she broke apart from him, her hands slipping down to grasp his. He was sorry not to have her close anymore but also glad because her proximity was doing things to his body that he hadn’t yet learned to fully control. He would be mortified if she noticed and it would spoil the moment which he definitely didn’t want.

They stood looking at each other for a moment, holding hands. Something was happening between them that was making Kane’s heart race and his hands sweat where they were clutched in hers.

“Abigail!” Abby’s father was calling her, beckoning for her to leave with him.

“I have to go,” she said with a rueful smile. “My dad’s on the night shift.”

“That’s okay. It was nice seeing you.”

“You too.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for the dance.”

With that she turned and walked out of the room arm in arm with her father. Kane was left standing in the middle of the dancefloor, the damp imprint of her lips still on his cheek, a warm glow spreading throughout his body. What was that? It felt like more than a friendly peck on the cheek, a goodbye between friends. They weren’t great friends and her lips had lingered for a moment longer than necessary. Kane wanted to touch his cheek but he didn’t want to wipe away the residue of her kiss.

He stared after Abby, watching the door she disappeared through long after it had closed behind her. Gradually he was aware of a figure standing next to him, shaking his head and smiling. It was Sinclair.

“Ark station to Kane!”

Kane looked around. “What?”

“You, you’re staring into space like an idiot. One dance and she has you wrapped around her finger doesn’t she?”

“And a kiss,” said Kane smiling. “Don’t forget the kiss.”

“I’m trying to forget it, but the sight is unfortunately burned onto my retina.”

“You can talk. I saw you smooching in the corner with Kira. Made me want to be sick.”

“Hey, that’s my future wife you’re vomiting over.”

“Yeah, well maybe Abby is my future.”

“Oh, she’s the future all right, but what kind? She’s strong-willed so I hear. You know what that’s a euphemism for. She’ll be trouble, Kane. Mark my words.”

Kane dismissed Sinclair’s comment with a wave of his hand. He liked a strong woman, and he thought that Abby was the kind of trouble he could happily get into. “Well, I for one am glad Morrison invited us to this party. I hope it isn’t the last one.”

“He’s not bad as superiors go I suppose. I heard Rackham over in Section 17 is hell to work for – dismissive and contemptuous. He never has a good word to say, unlike Morrison.”

“Thanks heavens we aren’t stationed there,” said Kane.

\---

During the whole of this time Kane had been fully absorbed in the scene playing out before him. He remembered everything about that night, the seductive beat of the song, the weight of her in his arms, the smell of her hair. His heart was racing like it was that night, his palms were sweaty again. And his dear friend, Sinclair, who’d been like a brother to him in a place where no siblings were allowed. They’d been so close once. All of that night had been made possible by Captain Morrison and his generosity to two eager, hard-working young men.

As the scene began to fade he remembered the Ghost and turned to see it looking at him, the light from its head burning so bright and clear.

“It doesn’t take much, does it, to make people happy and thankful?” said the Spirit.

“Not much? Those parties were a very big deal back in the day.”

“I’m not talking just of the party. What did it cost him to invite two cadets to his party? It was a small thing, but it meant so much.”

Kane considered this for a moment. “You’re right, I suppose. He had the power to make our lives happy or miserable; to make our time with him a pleasure or a chore. He could so easily have been a tyrant, made life hell, and he did work us hard, but there were rewards, like the party and insignificant things I hadn’t thought much of before, like a kind word for a job well done.”

He felt the Spirit watching him intently and stopped speaking.

“What’s the matter?” asked the Ghost.

“Nothing really,” said Kane.

“Something’s wrong, I can see it in your face. What’s on your mind?”

“I was just thinking about Sinclair. I should speak to him more often. Properly, like a friend. All I ever do is give him orders.”

As he said the words they were back out in space again.

“My time grows short,” said the Spirit. “We must be quick.”

A new scene materialised and Kane was older now, perhaps twenty, he thought. He had reached his full height, his hair was cropped short military-style and he had a bulk to his frame from long hours spent working out in the Ark gym. He was wearing the uniform of a full member of the Guard. The epaulette of a Lieutenant was stitched onto his sleeve, so he had risen far in a short time.

He was not alone, but sat next to a girl with long brown hair and eyes the colour of the richest earth. Tears were pricking the corners of those eyes, making them sparkle in the light coming from the Ghost of Christmas Past. It was of course Abby, eighteen now and breathtakingly beautiful.

“I don’t matter to you anymore,” she was saying. “I’ve been usurped by something more interesting. It seems to give you more joy and comfort than I can.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Kane, in a tone that betrayed his frustration.

“The Guard.”

He sighed. “It’s my job, Abby, my future. Of course I’m interested in it otherwise what would be the point?”

“It’s consuming you. You used to like music and dancing and being with your friends. Now I hardly see you and when I do it’s all you talk about.”

“It’s important to me. I’m doing well. I want to go as far as I can and that takes commitment.”

“I know that,” she said gently, “and your hard work and commitment to everything you do is what I’ve always loved about you, but I feel like it’s more than that.”

Kane was perplexed. It was true they hadn’t seen as much of each other lately but sacrifices had to be made to get what you wanted. Abby should know that better than most, she was training to be a doctor after all, and that was a lot of long days working and late nights studying.

“What do you mean, it’s more than that? I don’t understand you.”

“It’s as though you’ve disappeared behind the rules and the uniform. You’re not the Marcus I knew anymore. You’re cold towards me. We barely touch let alone make love. Your world has shrunk to the Guard and nothing else. It’s not good for you.”

He took hold of her hand in his and kissed it. “Abby. Have I really changed so much? I still love you.” She looked up at him, tears glistening. Her fingers brushed his cheek, that same cheek where she had first kissed him on the night of Morrison’s party four years earlier. They had been together ever since. He cupped his hands round her face, brought her lips to his and kissed them. She hesitated then yielded, her tongue snaking into his mouth and he felt the familiar surge of love and desire he got when they touched each other. She was right, it had been a while.

Then suddenly she broke off the kiss, pushing him away. “No! That’s not fair,” she said. “You HAVE changed. When we first met you were a different man.”

“I was a boy then.”

“You weren’t that young. You’re different now and you know it. We used to have the same hopes and dreams but now it’s like we’re two separate people. We’re miserable together.”

Kane got a sinking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. “Are you saying we’re over? I’ve never said I wanted us to end!”

“Not in words, you haven’t. But you’ve pushed me away. I’m a symbol of everything you seem to despise now. Admit it, if we met today would you still want to be with me? I don’t think so.”

Kane didn’t want to admit she was right. She had started to get on his nerves lately. She was so damned pompous, always convinced she was right. When she got together with her friends they talked endlessly about the rights of the Ark citizens and how draconian the punishments were. He had to bite his tongue because he was outnumbered and he knew his views weren’t popular among her group. She couldn’t see that the punishments had to be severe as a deterrent. Since he had started working in the Guard he had learned a lot more about how few resources the Ark really had. They were living on a knife edge and sharing what little they had fairly was crucial to them surviving as a race. Those who took extra for themselves or for others threatened that survival and had to be punished. It was the only way.

“Your silence speaks volumes,” she said, her eyes sad but her voice firm, hard-edged. “I’m letting you go so that you can live the life you want without me holding you back.”

She got up and walked towards the door. Kane knew he should say something but he couldn’t find the words, and worse, realised he didn’t want to. She paused at the threshold and turned to look at him.

“I really loved you, you know.” And with that she left.

\---

Kane was bereft watching this scene. He hadn’t felt a lot of heartache at the time, if he was honest. It was more like relief. But he felt it now, a burning sensation in his chest like he got when he drank his whisky neat and too quickly only this was a hundred times worse. He turned to the Spirit. “Don’t show me more. Why do you want to torture me like this?”

“Just one more,” said the Ghost.

“No!” cried Kane. “I can’t see any more.”

But the Spirit was on a mission and wasn’t giving in. He wrapped Kane in his small ghostly arms and held him tight, forcing him to watch the final scene.

They were in Abby’s quarters in Alpha station. She was sitting on the sofa with Clarke, the child’s head on her lap. Clarke looked to be around ten years old. They were watching an old black and white film on the screen. Kane recognised it as one his mother used to love watching. It was ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’. Kane had always hated that film, even as a child. He couldn’t understand why people liked to torment themselves watching so-called tearjerkers. There was enough to get upset about in real life if that was your thing, without watching other peoples’ misery on the screen as well. Abby was stroking Clarke’s hair absentmindedly. The room was decorated with tinsel and there was a lop-sided scrap-metal tree on the table, made by Clarke he presumed, unless Abby was really poor at crafts. It was possible; he didn’t think she’d ever been very arty.

The door opened and Jake Griffin entered. Kane’s heart stopped for a moment at the sight of him. They had been friends, sort of, once. It hadn’t been a year since his death for which Kane was partly responsible, along with Abby and Thelonious. Jake’s death was the reason Abby hated Kane more than ever, that and because he’d locked her daughter up soon after.

Clarke woke from her slumber at the sound of the door and jumped up when she saw Jake. “Daddy!” she cried and ran to him. Abby rose too and joined in the huddle. The three of them stood there hugging and Kane felt an ache deep inside. He realised with a shock that he was jealous. He wanted to be there, in that room, with those people.

The threesome broke apart and Abby and Jake moved into the work area, while Clarke sat on the floor watching the film.

“I saw an old friend of yours today,” Jake said.

“Oh yeah, who was that?”

“Guess.”

“How can I guess? It could have been anyone.”

“It was Kane.”

“Kane? What was he doing on Alpha station? I thought he was permanently based at the prison these days?”

“He was in Go-Sci. Seymour Jaha’s on his last legs apparently and Kane is hovering around him like a vulture over a carcass. He’s probably waiting for him to die so he can take over. Too bad for him Thelonious will get the nod.”

“Jake, that’s no way to talk.” Abby batted Jake on the arm in gentle rebuke but she was smiling.

\---

“Take me away from this place, Spirit!” said Kane in a broken voice.

“I told you these are shadows from the past. They can’t be changed. Don’t blame me if you don’t like what you see.”

“Take me away, I beg you. I can’t bear it.”

He looked at the Ghost and was horrified to see all the people that had been shown to him tonight reflected in its shimmering face.

“Take me back. And haunt me no more!”

He struggled with the Ghost, his thoughts focussed on the light coming from its head. If he could extinguish that light somehow, maybe all this would go away. They were back in his room suddenly, and the light from the Spirit was casting a glow all over his meagre possessions. Kane grabbed the sheet from his bed and threw it over the Ghost. The Ghost disappeared beneath but the light would not go out. It streamed from beneath the sheet, a light filled with many colours, shimmering and pulsing over the ground.

Kane was overcome with exhaustion. He could no longer think straight. His mind was a whirl of scenes and emotions. He left the Ghost on the floor under the sheet and collapsed on his bed. He was asleep instantly.


	3. The Second of the Three Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kane meets the Ghost of Christmas Present and learns a few more painful home truths

Kane woke again just ahead of the appointed hour. His room felt warmer than the previous day and he looked around trying to prepare himself for what lay ahead. He was not, however, prepared for nothing to happen. He checked the clock; it was long past One. Five minutes went by, then ten, then fifteen. He alternated between looking at the clock and looking round the room. The anticipation was making his heart race and his palms sweat. Just as he was about to give up he noticed a red light streaming down on him, bathing his body in a warm glow. He was alarmed, unsure what this meant. The beam gave off heat that he could feel on the exposed parts of his skin. Was it going to set him on fire? The thought seemed ridiculous but after two nights of visitations and travelling round the Ark in his nightclothes clutching the hand of a ghostly spectre he thought anything was possible. It would be bad news for him if he were to spontaneously combust and even worse news for the Ark because fire in an oxygen-controlled environment was a recipe for disaster.

After a minute had gone by with nothing terrible happening to him he wondered if the source of the light was coming from out in the hallway. He flung the covers off again, slipped his feet into his boots and feeling a profound sense of déjà vu he padded over to the door of his quarters again. As his finger neared the button a voice from beyond the door called his name and asked him to come in. He pushed the button and stepped out into what should have been the hallway but was in fact his room. At least the bare bones of the room were his, the floor and the walls the familiar grey, the bed he’d just left was there still with the imprint from his body on the sheets. That was all that was the same, though. The interior of the room had been transformed into a woodland grove the like of which he had of course only seen in the text books he’d read so much as a child.

The walls were draped with greenery. Mistletoe hung from the ceiling in bunches, its white berries nestled among the leaves, contrasting with the bright red fruits of the holly. Ivy twisted and turned between them all, binding the plants together. The room was fragrant with a scent Kane had no frame of reference for except that it was clean and fresh and he could taste it, sweet on his tongue. It seemed to suffuse all his senses. Was this what breathing real air was like? How much they missed out on stuck here in this tin can. Kane thought he would happily die if his last breath was like this. He reached out to touch the leaves and winced as the sharp edges of the holly pricked his fingers. The room glowed in the light reflecting off the leaves and berries.

Heaped on the floor were all the foods the Ark’s ancient hydroponics system could only dream of growing. The greens of cabbages, cauliflowers, herbs and lettuce were set against the yellow ears of corn and waxy potatoes and the whole pile was topped with bright red tomatoes. If only there were enough water on the Ark they could be eating these foods every day. Sat in the middle of this huge pile of food was a Giant with a huge jolly grin on his face. He held a glowing torch which was the source of the light that had been shining on Kane. He beckoned Kane further into the room.

“Come in, come in. Come and get to know me!” he said in a booming voice that echoed round the room.

Kane ventured with some trepidation into the room. He had expected another eerie ghost-like figure not this huge smiling hulk of a man and he was taken aback.

“Who are you?”

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. Feel free to look me over, don’t be shy.”

Kane hadn’t been considered shy by anyone since he was a young boy. Cold and unapproachable perhaps, but never shy. He looked the Ghost up and down. He was cloaked in swathes of green cloth that was rich in colour and looked velvety in texture. The cloak was tied loosely and fell open revealing a broad, bare chest. He sat cross-legged, feet large and unshod. A holly wreath was set upon his head, from which icicles hung shimmering in the light. His hair was a rich chestnut brown, and green eyes sparkled in his genial face.

“Have you ever met me or any of my family before?”

“I think I would have remembered if I had. You’re not someone that’s easy to forget,” replied Kane, still mesmerised by the Ghost’s appearance and hoping that his robe wouldn’t fall open any further. He didn’t appear to be wearing anything underneath! Nevertheless, he felt safer with this one than he had any of the others. Perhaps it was the smile that was putting him at ease. “Spirit, take me wherever you wish. Last night I had a lesson that I’m starting to understand. Tonight, I am yours. If you have anything to teach me then you will find me a willing student.”

The Ghost leaned forwards and beckoned Kane closer. “Touch my robe.”

Kane did as asked and the room vanished in an instant to be replaced by the Mess Hall. Kane and the Ghost stood and watched as happy people took their Christmas food from the chefs. The food was more natural than their usual fare, grown each year especially for Christmas. Kane had always been against having special food because it was more costly not only to produce but also for people to buy. There was no money on the Ark. Food was rationed and given free to all citizens though as a consequence it was simple and it was more efficient for the vegetable proteins to be made into long-lasting bars and biscuits than to eat them fresh. However, there was a bartering system for extras and the fresh Christmas food fell into that category. Kane didn’t think everyone could afford it and therefore it wasn’t a fair use of their limited resources. He had always been out-voted on the Council though when he brought the issue up which was every year so far. Others had long ago decided it was because he was mean and thought Christmas a waste of time, the latter of which was true, but the reality was he simply didn’t think it was fair.

The people he was watching seemed happy to exchange a variety of items for the food, though, and he noticed that the chefs weren’t too fussy about what they accepted in return. The same amount of food was given no matter what the value of the exchange. Kane hadn’t realised that before. Then again, he had never been down and spoken to the chefs, so he supposed he could hardly be surprised at how little he knew.

Not everyone picking up their food was happy. A few looked sombre and a couple were arguing. As they passed Kane and the Ghost of Christmas Present, the Spirit sprinkled something on their food and their good humour was restored. They left the Hall with smiles on their faces.

“No one should quarrel on Christmas Day,” the Ghost said, grinning.

“What did you put on their food?” asked Kane.

“It is my own secret recipe,” answered the Spirit.

“Why do you only give it to some and not others?”

“I only give it to those most in need, those who are unhappy or unwell.”

Kane pondered this for a moment. “Not everyone can be happy all the time, nor should they be. It’s not a human right. You make what you can out of what you have and get on with life.”

“Oh, so gloomy!” laughed the Ghost. “Do you want to live all your life just ‘getting on with it’? Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it’s only on Christmas Day. Is it so bad to want everyone to be happy just one day a year?”

“I suppose not.” Now, Kane was not an uncaring man, dear Reader, despite appearances; indeed he cared a great deal about the future of what was left of the human race as it orbited that barren Earth. No, his problem was that he only saw the big picture and forgot that it was made up of individuals. He hadn’t considered the happiness of any single person on the Ark for many long years, so this was a new concept to him and he was struggling to digest it.

He didn’t have too long to ponder it though because they soon left the Mess Hall and whisked along to Engineering. There was Raven Reyes making necklaces out of scrap metal. A small line had formed and people waited contentedly for their last-minute gifts, chatting with their neighbours, laughing and joking. Kane had no idea this kind of thing went on every year. He was usually working in Go-Sci, happy to have a full day to himself undisturbed.

After barely a pause they moved on to the next scene. Kane recognised it instantly because it was a place he had to visit regularly in the course of his work. It was known as the Sky Box and it was where the Arkers kept their prisoners. Most people only stayed long enough to have a brief trial of the facts before being floated or in rare instances released. The main occupants were young people who couldn’t be executed for their crimes until they turned eighteen.  There were currently one hundred residents in Lock Up, including, as we know, Abby’s daughter, Clarke, put there by Kane himself for trying to finish the job her father started.

The Sky Box was a grim place at the best of times, grey like the rest of the Ark with small rooms, most of which had no windows or skylights. Having seen the other rooms of the Ark looking so bright with their Christmas decorations even Kane had to admit that Lock Up was bleak. No tinsel adorned these walls, no presents were piled in the corner, no smell of fresh food wafted through the hallways.

Kane and the Ghost were standing in the corner of the Visitor’s Room. Two young men were being fussed over by a woman he knew as Hannah Green from Farm Station. He recognised the boys but didn’t know their names. One of them was wearing a ridiculous pair of over-sized flying goggles round his neck. Kane had no idea where he would have got those from. The boys were feigning embarrassment but they both seemed pleased with Hannah’s attentions. On a table next to them sat another dark-haired young man with a permanent scowl. His mother was also trying to put an arm round him but he kept pushing her away. Kane knew this boy because he’d floated his father a few years before and the son had been nothing but trouble ever since _(you will remember that John Murphy Senior was one of the poor souls who couldn’t get any rest that Kane saw floating outside his window after Jaha’s visit)_. The remaining two occupants of the room he knew well as the girl’s discovery under the floor of her mother’s room had been Ark-wide news. Sixteen years hidden from view on a place as small as the Ark was no mean feat – a near record – and Kane had had a grudging respect for what Aurora Blake had managed to achieve. They couldn’t find out who the father was, although there were plenty of rumours, so it was only the mother who had been floated. It was unfair, Kane had to admit, but the rules were the rules. Octavia looked sullen and her brother, Kane thought his name was Bellamy, was trying to console her. Locking Octavia up for the crime of being born, which she could hardly do anything to prevent, had not been Kane’s idea, but he’d followed the Council’s orders as always and shut the girl away.

“Hey Blake!” Murphy shouted across the room and Bellamy looked across to him.

“What?”

“How’s janitorial life?” he asked with a smirk.

“Hush, John,” said Murphy’s mother but he brushed her away.

“Better than being in here, Murphy. At least I get to see people other than my mother.”

“At least I have a mother.”

At that Bellamy lunged towards Murphy and Kane stepped forward to break the two up. Of course, his hands just went right through the brawling boys and grasped nothing but thin air. The Ghost put his hand on Kane’s arm.

“Boys will be boys. They will have to sort this out for themselves.”

“Guys!” The boy with the goggles stepped between Bellamy and Murphy and pushed them apart. “We shouldn’t be fighting ourselves; it’s not our fault we’re in here.”

Bellamy and Murphy glared at each other but kept a respectful distance apart.

“Technically it is your fault, Jasper. You did get caught growing your ‘medicinal’ herbs after all,” said Bellamy.

“Yeah, well if Kane weren’t such a sneaky bastard we would never have been caught. You’d think he’d have something better to do than prowl the hallways at three in the morning.”

“I don’t think Kane has anything, or anyone, better to do,” replied Murphy. “That’s half his problem. He needs to get laid once in a while.” Everyone sniggered at that.

Kane bristled at the sound of his name and the lewd comments of the boys. He’d never before cared much what people thought of him but after the turmoil of the last two days hearing it out loud hurt him more than he ever would have thought.

Jasper picked up a cup of water. “Let’s raise a glass of our special Christmas cheer to dear Councillor Kane, without whom we’d all be free and drinking something a lot nicer than this.”

Everyone took a cup and held it in the air. “To Kane!” echoed round the room.

Kane turned to the Ghost.”Do we have to stay and watch this?”

“Don’t tell me you’re uncomfortable? You? I am surprised.” The Spirit laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re off next to see someone who loves you even more than the boys.”

With that the Ghost took hold of Kane’s hand again and within the blink of an eye they were inside one of the cells. The floor and walls of the cell were covered in intricate drawings. On the bed sat Abby Griffin and Clarke.

Kane’s stomach flipped, not at seeing Abby _(well, maybe a little bit, dear Reader, but he’s not ready to admit that yet)_ , more at the thought of what insults he was probably about to hear from her. This night was turning out to be more painful than the previous one and he hadn’t thought that was possible.

Abby was holding Clarke’s hand, stroking it with her thumb. Both women were crying. Kane suspected this would be about Jake, and he was not wrong.

“This is our first Christmas without dad, and look where I am.” Clarke slipped her hand out of Abby’s to gesture round her cell.

“I know, I know.” Abby caressed Clarke’s blonde hair, trying to soothe her daughter.

“This is all your fault,” said Clarke, and Kane stiffened. He didn’t think she knew about Abby’s involvement in Jake’s death. He’d never been asked to cover it up, he’d just kept quiet. If he was forced to give a reason he would say it was to preserve the authority of the Council, or some such bull. But if you plied him with whisky and got him loose-tongued and brain-numb he might just admit that there was more to it than that. Blame it on old ties or long-buried feelings if you absolutely must, but he’d kept Abby’s secret for the sake of her and the time she had left with Clarke.

Abby was clearly taken aback by Clarke’s words as well. “Wha… what do you mean?”

“You didn’t stand up for him enough. You let Kane and Jaha step all over you. You gave in, mom.”

Abby tried to grasp Clarke’s hand again but the girl pulled away, moved to stand at the far end of the cell, just inches away from Kane and the Ghost of Christmas Present.

“It’s more complicated than that, Clarke.”

“I don’t see what’s complicated about it. He was your husband. You loved him, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.”

“Well, you’ve a funny way of showing it.” Clarke paused a moment, a strange look coming across her face. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” Abby’s tears were drying on her face. She was a picture of worry and frustration.

“Did you want to be with him all along? Is that why you let him take dad?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Kane.”

“Kane?” Abby looked shocked and in his invisible corner of the room Kane was too.

“I know you used to date him. Dad told me.”

Abby laughed, which made Clarke frown. “That was a long time ago, Clarke, when I was younger than you. Trust me, if Kane was the only man on the Ark and I was the only woman, that would be the end of the human race.” _(This sentiment was not a surprise to Kane, dear Reader. As we saw earlier, Abby was never one to hide her feelings of antipathy for our anti-hero)._

Clarke smiled at that, despite herself. “What were you thinking? He’s so cold and mean.”

Abby smiled wistfully (at least Kane thought she looked wistful) “He was different back then.”

“Urgh!” Clarke shivered, no doubt at the thought of her mom and Kane together. “Why didn’t you fight for dad more?”

“I did everything I could, but it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.” She started crying again and Clarke’s attitude thawed. She came and sat down next to Abby again and they held each other until the bell rang to signal the end of the short visiting time Kane had allowed for the prisoners.

Kane looked at the Ghost. “Maybe I could have done things differently.”

“Maybe you all could have.”

“But the Ark rules…”

“Yes. Rules are rules, so you say. Come with me. We have two more stops to go.”

The penultimate stop was to a part of the Ark Kane didn’t know very well. It was Section B-17 of Factory Station. Kane rarely had cause to go there. It was the manufacturing part of the Ark and had a dedicated guard because of the work that was done there and the endless possibilities for theft and deception. He only came into contact with the people from Factory Station if they appeared before the Council for crimes they had committed. They were in a small room not much bigger than the cell they had just left Clarke Griffin in. At a table sat a large red-headed man and a young girl of nine or ten. They were eating a meagre Christmas meal by the standards Kane had seen other people enjoying that day. Yesterday he would have though it adequate but now it seemed sad. They mustn’t have had anything to barter with the Mess Hall.

“Meet Tor Lemkin,” said the Ghost, “and his daughter Reese. Do you know them?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever met them in my life,” replied Kane.

“Well, you may know them soon enough.”

“Where’s the mother?”

“Siobhan Lemkin sadly died giving birth to Reese.”

Kane wanted to ask the Spirit more but the Ghost seemed intent on the Lemkin family so Kane kept quiet and watched the scene unfold.

The child had the lion’s share of the small meal and she was clearly enjoying it. Her father sat back having finished his portion already and watched Reese with a concerned look on his face. When she looked up at him he forced a smile.

“That was lovely, dad. Thank you.”

“Ah, you’re welcome. Now come here, it’s time for a story I think.”

Reese perched on his knee and Tor stroked her long auburn hair before clipping it into place with a pink barrette. He began to recite an old fairytale about a wolf and a girl in a red hood. Marcus had heard the tale himself as a child. It didn’t end well for the wolf. Half way through the tale Reese started coughing and wheezing. She could barely catch her breath and Kane was alarmed. Watching her struggle to take in air and being unable to do anything about it was heartbreaking.

“Can’t you do something?” he asked the Ghost.

“I can’t interfere and neither can you. Things must happen as they will.”

A look crossed Kane’s face that had not been seen since he lost his father as a teenager. It was a look of pure anguish. His brow was furrowed, his dark eyes narrowed in concern. His fingers played with his bottom lip, pulling it this way and that as he watched Tor hold the girl firmly in his arms, keeping her still, letting her breath finally return.

“What is wrong with her?”

“You would have to ask your friend Doctor Griffin for a clinical diagnosis but I believe you are witnessing the long-term effects of oxygen deprivation. She’s slowly going blind as well. It’s a common problem in Sector 17 because there are too many workers crammed into a small area. They use up too much oxygen.”

Kane knew all about the oxygen problems on the Ark of course. He had been discussing it with Sinclair only the day before, although it seemed like a lifetime ago. It was all spreadsheets and graphs to him, though. He had never seen the effects on a living person. No wonder Abby was emotional, having to see this every day.

After a few moments in her father’s arms Reese was calm enough to be put to bed. Tor tucked her in and she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him in for a big hug. “Don’t forget your prayers,” he said.

Reese put her hands together and closed her eyes. “Merry Christmas to us all,” she said, “and God bless us everyone.” Tor kissed her forehead. “Merry Christmas, angel.” He dimmed the light at her side of the room and went back to the table, sitting there for some time with his head in his hands.

Kane felt a strange sensation building inside him. It started in the pit of his stomach and rose like bile up into his throat. “Tell me, Spirit, will she live?”

“I see her in the future but she is crying. There is no father sitting at the table. She is not at home but in a stranger’s room with other orphaned children.”

At first Kane couldn’t imagine what would cause such a situation. Why would so many Ark children be orphaned, unless there was an accident at some point in the future?

“Say this won’t happen, Spirit, that she will be spared whatever her fate is to be.”

“If nothing that we have seen today is unchanged in the future then we will never see her father again. If he is to die, then perhaps that will solve the oxygen problem in the short term. The sacrifice of the few to save the many.”

Kane was overcome with grief at the Ghost’s words for they were his. He recognised them as coming from his preliminary population reduction plan. It was only a draft and he didn’t expect it would be carried through by the Council, but if the Ghost could see a future filled with orphans then what did that mean?

He looked at the Spirit quizzically. The Ghost nodded.

“I see you recognise your own plan.” He shook his head. “Who are you to decide which men shall live and which shall die? Are you worth so much more than these lowly workers, these poor fathers who have so little?”

Kane hung his head at the rebuke. He couldn’t look at the Ghost, couldn’t speak. Too many thoughts were whirling through his mind. In the background the child was humming a Christmas Carol as she fell asleep.

The Ghost took pity on Kane. “Look,” he said. “We have one more stop. Perhaps there’s a chance for some fun before the day is out. I have rather put you through the ringer, haven’t I? That wasn’t my intent.”

Wearily, Kane held onto the Ghost’s cloak for what he hoped would be the final time. When they came to land, he saw his mother and he groaned inwardly. Nothing fun could come out of this visit surely? His mother was seated at a long table. She was sharing Christmas dinner with her followers as she did every year. She always asked him to attend and he always refused citing work pressures, which was only partially true. He did work, but only because he wanted to. No one was forcing him. He suspected he was the only person on all of the stations who worked on Christmas Day out of choice. Most people on the Ark followed no faith, or the Earth-based religion of his mother, but there were still remnants of other faiths practised he knew. Christmas had come to symbolise a day of thanks and celebration for all Arkers, regardless of religion. Kane didn’t believe in a higher being. It was an accident of evolution that humans walked the Earth, and a result of human arrogance and stupidity that they had ended up locked out of that paradise and shut up in a space prison for generations.

There was an empty seat next to his mother which she kept glancing at. He suspected it was kept free for him, should hell freeze over and he one day decide to celebrate with her. She was strong in faith was his mother, he had to give her that.

She looked happy sitting among her friends and followers and he was glad about that. _(That shrivelled old black heart we saw at the beginning of our tale is taking on a red hue, don’t you think?)._ Her smile broadened suddenly and Kane turned to see what had caused her happiness. It was Abby. She came over to Vera and kissed her cheek, settling herself down in the empty chair next to her.

“Merry Christmas, Vera.”

“Merry Christmas to you, love. How have you been?”

“It’s been a tough year.”

Vera squeezed Abby’s hand. “I know it has. Have you seen that wayward son of mine recently?”

Abby laughed. “I’m not sure wayward is a term I’d use to describe Marcus, but yes. I saw him yesterday.”

“How was he?”

“The same as always. Uncompromising. Has he not been to see you?”

Vera smiled sympathetically at Abby, as though she couldn’t believe she would ask such a stupid question. “He passed through Mess yesterday during the carol service. Couldn’t get away quick enough.”

“That sounds like him, yes. He never was very fond of Christmas, even as a child.”

“Do you remember that first Christmas you were dating? He brought you to meet us. He was so nervous, and proud. All I could think was how young you were.”

“I was only fourteen.”

“Yes, but wiser than he was, even then.”

“Even now,” replied Abby and they both laughed.

Kane smiled. His mom and Abby talked together so naturally. He realised they must meet up often. They were familiar, comfortable with each other. Kane had never felt like that with anyone, not even Abby when they were dating. He wasn’t as guarded then as he was now, but he never truly let her in. He’d never let anybody in.

“Do you remember that metal Christmas tree he made me, in engineering class?” Abby was still taking about Kane to Vera.

“Oh, yes, I do. It wouldn’t stand up straight. He was so proud of it, though.”

“He was. I had to try and keep a straight face but it was hard. He was so earnest.”

The memory of young Kane obviously tickled Abby because she laughed loudly, a deep, throaty laugh that he hadn’t heard coming from her in a long time.

“Whatever happened to that tree?” mused Vera.

“Oh, I still have it,” replied Abby and Kane realised with a start that she was referring to the tree he’d seen on the table in her quarters when he visited with the Ghost of Christmas Past. He’d presumed it was made by Clarke. He had no memory of making that at all, but then he supposed he’d blocked out a lot of his time with Abby. It was painful to think about so he’d let himself forget. He was astonished that she had kept it, and more so that she brought it out every Christmas, that it was part of her decorations, her family celebrations. This was the woman whom he thought hated him with every fibre of her being.

“Won’t you stop for a drink, Abby? We’re about to play a game.”

“Of course I will.”

Vera poured Abby a drink of something that looked suspiciously like moonshine to Kane. Yet another thing about his mother he didn’t know.

“What are we playing?” asked Abby.

“It’s called Yes and No.” The voice speaking came from Nygel which surprised Kane more than anything he’d seen that night. He had thought she hated his mother. “I am a character; it could be someone you know or someone from history or a film you are likely to have seen. You have to guess who I am but I can only answer yes and no.”

“Well the obvious question is are you a female?” said Abby.

“No.”

“A man, then.”

“That would be the assumption, yes, unless you know of a third gender, you being a doctor and all.”

Abby bristled but tried to keep her humour. “You could be an animal. You never ruled that out.”

“Well I ain’t Bambi, but I’ll have to give you that,” said Nygel. “Next question.”

The questions continued until they’d established it was a male with dark hair, brown eyes, film-star good looks, a fondness for reading, an obsession with numbers and dark clothing. Kane found himself wanting to join in, although he couldn’t of course because no one knew he was there.

The Ghost was looking at him, a smile on his face.

“What?” said Kane.

“You’re enjoying yourself.”

Kane raised an eyebrow at the Spirit but didn’t say anything. He was enjoying himself, he couldn’t deny it.

Eventually someone asked Nygel if she was a stickler for the rules and she said yes with a smile. Kane knew what was coming next.

“I think you’re my son,” said Vera.

“I am,” said Nygel. “Sorry, Vera. I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s okay. You were quite restrained for you. He is good-looking; of course I’m going to agree with that.”

“He’d be better looking if he smiled once in a while.”

“One day,” replied Vera. “I have faith.”

Nygel shook her head but was smiling. Kane felt relief. He’d come out of that well considering. Nygel wasn’t his greatest fan either, _(Who was, dear Reader?)_ but she’d been respectful to his mother and he felt grateful to her for that.

“Let’s raise a glass to my son, Marcus Kane, even though he isn’t here and probably wouldn’t appreciate it. I love him all the same.”

Her followers raised a cup and murmured his name. Abby clinked her mug with Vera’s, planted another kiss on her cheek.

“I must be off now. I have a long day tomorrow.”

“Take care of yourself, Abby, and that beautiful girl of yours.”

“I will.”

The scene in front of Kane faded and he found himself whizzing through many sunrises and sunsets as days followed nights followed days. It seemed like one long night to him but many days were condensed into this time with the Ghost of Christmas Present. He watched fascinated as the Ghost aged. When he saw a mirrored surface Kane looked at himself and he looked the same as always. He had not aged but the Ghost became older and greyer. By the time they reached Twelfth Night the Ghost’s hair was completely white.

“Are spirits’ lives so short?” asked Kane. “You have grown old in no time at all.”

“My life in this universe is brief,” replied the Ghost. “It ends tonight.”

“Tonight!” Kane was shocked and more than a little sad at the prospect of the Ghost of Christmas Present leaving him. He had shown him some painful scenes, but he had been a good companion all things being said.

“Yes, at midnight. The time draws near.”

Kane noticed that something was protruding from the robes of the Ghost. It was a foot.

He pointed to it. “What is that?”

The Ghost brought out two children, miserable wretched hideous creatures, small for their ages, pinched and twisted.

“The boy is Ignorance and the girl is Wilfulness. They are Man’s children. Beware them both, but the boy most of all for he has doom written upon him.”

“Have they nowhere to go?” asked Kane.

“Bad behaviour should be punished, not rewarded.”

Once again Kane’s words were repeated back to him. He had said that very thing to Abby on Christmas Eve.

“There are prisons for such as them,” cried Kane, but to no one, because the Ghost of Christmas Present had disappeared.

In the distance he could hear a clock strike twelve, although he didn’t know of any such clock on the Ark. He remembered Seymour Jaha’s prediction of the third Spirit and looked around him.

Coming towards him, like a mist skirting the ground, was a Phantom, dark as the night, cloaked in black and hooded.

 

 


	4. The Last of the Three Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane meets the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come and there's a lot of angst. Tons and tons of angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the Disney version of A Christmas Carol. If you're familiar with the Dickens version then you know what happens in this chapter. I'm not going to spell it out because I don't want to spoil it but be prepared for major angst and possibly some unhappiness, maybe even a few tears. 
> 
> Just don't forget that this is not the end, there's a whole other chapter to come where things may, or may not, get happier :D

The Phantom approached slowly and silently, like a swirling fog on a cold, damp night. It was shrouded completely in black from head to toe if indeed it had any toes because it didn’t seem to touch the ground, just glide above it. Nothing of the creature beneath the cloak was visible except for an outstretched arm with long, white bony fingers. It was difficult to see it against the black of the night but it had an aura of menace that filled Kane with dread. The air had a chill that cut into Kane’s bones so deeply that he shivered. Unlike the previous ghosts this one did not offer up any personal information, indeed it didn’t speak a word in greeting at all. There was a heavy silence for a moment until Kane was forced to question it himself.

“Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?” he asked the spirit.

The ghost didn’t speak but pointed ahead with its hand. Kane looked to see where it was pointing but there was nothing except the blackness of space for they were once again hovering just outside the Ark. By rights, Kane thought, he shouldn’t be able to live out here for more than a milli-second, let alone breathe and talk, but the laws of physics had been abandoned over the last few nights, and he no longer concerned himself with such trivialities.

“Are you going to show me the future?” Still the ghost didn’t speak but there was a slight perturbation in the cloth that surrounded its head, and Kane took that as a nod in the affirmative. Nothing much in his life had frightened Kane before now. He was born in a spaceship that orbited Earth at 17,000 miles per hour and was only prevented from plummeting to the ground by aging thrusters, centrifugal force and what felt sometimes like a wing and a prayer. He lost his father in an accident on Tesla station when he was still a teenager but had stoically carried on. He’d watched people shout and cry and wail or, what was worse somehow, be completely silent as they were floated out into space. It was his job to worry constantly about the Ark’s systems and he waged a ceaseless battle against their age and slow, inevitable decline. He was scared now, though. This ghost, disembodied, faceless and voiceless seemed to lack humanity. He felt certain it had no soul, just a cold, black emptiness inside and that frightened him to the core. This wasn’t the time to let fear overwhelm him, however, so he swallowed his panic, pushing it down until it lay heavy on his stomach, and addressed the Spirit again.

“You’re the most fearsome of the Ghosts I’ve seen, but I know you’re here to help me become the man I could be. I will bear with you, gratefully. Won’t you speak to me?”

There was no reply but the Spirit again pointed onwards. Kane sighed. He wasn’t going to get much in the way of conversation out of this Ghost. Normally, that would make him very happy because there was nothing he disliked more than unnecessary small talk, but silence was only adding to the spookiness of this whole affair. He would have welcomed another human voice. “Lead on, then, Spirit. The night is drawing to a close and I’m eager for my final lesson.”

The Spirit floated off and Kane followed. This Ghost didn’t seem to want him to touch him as the others had and Kane was relieved. He had the feeling the Ghost would be cold and clammy to touch or that his hands might just go straight through the Spirit as though it wasn’t there. He shivered at the very thought.

Without hardly seeming to move they were deep in the heart of the Ark, in Go-Sci by the look of things, thought Kane. People were huddled in groups and there was a strange atmosphere as conversations were conducted in hushed tones. Kane and the Spirit stood close to one group. Kane vaguely recognised them as engineers. He’d often seen them in the control room but paid them little attention, considering them nothing more than background noise.

“He’s dead,” one of them said.

“When?”

“This very night.” The man sniffed and scratched his nose.

“Did he float himself?”

The men burst into laughter then, the noise shockingly loud in the quiet of the room. Other people turned to look at the men.

“There won’t be many people at the funeral.”

“I wouldn’t mind going, to finally see the old black-hearted devil off.”

The two men turned back to their monitors, the subject of their conversation quickly dismissed. Across the room Sinclair walked through the door. He was followed soon after by Raven Reyes. The pair greeted each other warmly.

“How are you today?” asked Sinclair.

“I’m great, how are you?”

“You heard that the Chancellor’s dead?”

“I did hear that.” Raven looked around to see who was standing within earshot. “About time, if you ask me. How are you doing, though? You’ve known him a long time, right?”

Sinclair shook his head. “I haven’t truly known him for many years. It’s no great loss. If anything, maybe it’s a chance for a fresh start.”

Kane was perplexed. They couldn’t be talking about Seymour Jaha because that was long in the past. It must be Thelonious they were discussing but he was a young man and this scene couldn’t be too far into the future because Sinclair hardly looked any older than when Kane had last seen him. His hair was slightly more salt than pepper and he was puffy around the eyes, with dark circles beneath them perhaps from lack of sleep. Kane acknowledged now that he worked him too hard; he must remedy that in the future. Perhaps Jaha’s death had been some kind of accident. Kane looked around the room, hoping to see himself then maybe he would find out what had happened. He was nowhere to be seen, though. Someone else was standing at his usual console, someone he didn’t recognise. He must be on a different shift than usual.

He didn’t have long to ponder that though because a new scene materialised. They were outside the Chancellor’s quarters and someone was going inside the room, someone who would never normally be allowed to set foot in this part of the Ark. It was Nygel and she was talking to a man with blonde hair and blue eyes that Kane didn’t know.

“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?” asked her companion.

“Of course we’re not, Thomas, but we need to get in now before they do something with the body.”

Kane and the Spirit followed Nygel into the Chancellor’s office. There on the bed at the back of the room lay a body, wrapped from head to toe in a shroud, not unlike the phantom beside him was dressed, only this cloth was a dirty white not black.

“Lucky for us they haven’t given his stuff away yet. He had some pretty unique items so I’ve heard.”

“He ain’t gonna need them where he’s gone that’s for sure,” said Thomas.

Nygel and Thomas were rummaging through the dead man’s clothes. They seemed fairly standard items to Kane – combat boots, a patched-up jacket and some scruffy faded t-shirts that may once have been black but were now a washed-out grey – the kind of clothes most people wore on the Ark. He himself had clothes very much like those being picked over by the hideous Nygel. He’d never liked her and although she’d risen a tiny notch in his estimations at his mother’s Christmas meal, she was still at the level of swamp-dweller for him. Her kind made the Ark a worse place to live and she tempted people into committing crimes while making sure she never got caught. How many floatings had she indirectly been responsible for he wondered? He supposed the clothes were high value items, with material being in such short supply like everything else. The Arkers were the greatest recyclers there had ever been, they had no choice but to reuse everything over and over again. Nygel passed the clothes to Thomas who wrapped them up in a cloth.

“This is how you end up when you make yourself hated. No one respects you; the only people who don’t detest you are scavengers like us, because you give us great bounty” said Nygel as she hurriedly searched the cupboards. A noise outside startled her and she shut the door quickly without taking anything from inside. “Let’s go,” she said.

Kane watched as Nygel and her co-conspirator left the room. He thought he saw the lesson of this shadow the Ghost had shown him.

“This lonely man’s life could be my own,” he said to the Spirit. “I never considered how alone Jaha was. He had Wells but they barely spoke. I always thought he was respected, though. He must have done something terrible in recent times to be so hated.”

The Spirit didn’t answer, just pointed to the man on the bed.

Kane stepped towards the body and reached out his hand. He wanted so badly to uncover the head, to see for certain who was beneath the cloth even though he knew he had no power to do so.

Death brings us all to the same low point, no matter from where we start, thought Kane, staring at the shrouded corpse. What is left of our lives at the end but an empty shell? Who is there to mourn the lonely man, the friendless, the hated? There’s no one here to talk about the kindness of his heart, the joy of his fellowship, the goodness of his deeds because he did none of those things for anybody. Instead they were whispering in corners about his black heart and wanted to go to his funeral just to make sure he was truly gone. What legacy is that? What useful purpose does his power serve now that he is gone, soon to be floated into space to become a brief spark of light and then extinguished forever, unwitnessed, unremarked, leaving no trace of his former self.

What if this man could be raised up now, like Lazarus in that old Bible story his mother liked so much, he mused. What would his last thoughts be? Pride, at how powerful he is, how in control he is right to the end? A fat lot of good those things have done him now, lying here dead before his time.

“Spirit! I think it’s time we left this place. I’ve learned my lesson.”

The Ghost did not move; it pointed again to the head of the dead man.

“I know you want me to remove the cover and I would if I could but I can’t.”

Still the Ghost pointed with his finger. Kane was starting to lose patience with it. “Look,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and even but failing, “is there anyone on the Ark who is sad at this man’s death? Show them to me.”

The Phantom spread its black robe out in front of Kane, looking so much like a character from an old cartoon Kane watched as a child that he smiled despite his annoyance. As the cape drew back a new scene was revealed. They were in Lock Up again only this time the cell was occupied by a young dark-haired woman rocking a tiny baby in her arms. An older child was asleep on the bed. So this woman’s crime was obvious to Kane. She was another Aurora Blake. The cell door opened and a Guard entered.

“The Chancellor is dead,” he informed the woman matter-of-factly. “There won’t be any floatings today. You are reprieved.”

The woman sank to her knees, miraculously still holding onto the baby. “Thank you, thank you,” she cried.

“Don’t thank me,” replied the Guard. “It changes nothing. Your execution is moved to tomorrow that’s all.”

The woman slumped to the floor and curled into a foetal position, clutching the baby to her chest. Both of them were crying.

“What’s this?” exclaimed Kane. “She’s not sad at his death, rather at the prospect of her own! Show me some tenderness connected to a death, any death.” He didn’t know why he needed to see someone mourned by people who loved them but some balance was required here. The disregard for the Chancellor in death, the indifference, and in some cases happiness, of the people he’d sworn to protect had unsettled Kane deeply.

The Ghost led him through dozens of hallways of the Ark, all virtually the same, until Kane was dizzy and had no idea where he was. When they finally stopped he recognised the grey-blue walls of Factory Station. Kane had a feeling he knew who he was about to see. Yes, there they were in the room where the Ghost of Christmas Present had seen Reese Lemkin together with other orphans. There was Reese sitting cross-legged on her bed, a book of fairy tales discarded by her side. Her auburn hair was longer now and she looked two or three years older to Kane. She had lost her baby face and was starting to become a young woman. She was talking to a woman who was perched next to her on the bed, stroking her hand. Reese looked straight at Kane as the woman spoke and he could tell from the way her eyes were unfocused that she had lost her sight after all. His population reduction plan mustn’t have been ratified by the Council, or else it had failed, which was worse and Kane didn’t want to contemplate that. He suspected the truth was about to come out whether he liked it or not.

“It’s just that I miss him,” Reese was saying. “Especially at this time of year.”

“I know, love. It’s a hard time of year for so many people, and with the second anniversary of the Culling just around the corner as well. We have to take comfort in each other.”

So the population reduction did take place and they were calling it a culling. What an awful word, thought Kane, as though the people were wild animals that had become a nuisance and had to be slaughtered. That wasn’t the intention of his plan at all, but then if it wasn’t, what was he achieving exactly? What was ‘population reduction’ if not a euphemism for culling? He had to face facts; he’d tried to hide the emotional truth in a scientific phrase but people weren’t stupid. They’d called it what it was and he admired them for that.

“There’s a service later, for the culled and the Hundred. I’d like to go.”

The woman patted Reese’s hand. “Then we’ll all go and pay our respects.”

Reese felt on the bed for the book and picked it up. “Will you read to me? The one about the wolf and Little Red Riding Hood?”

The woman opened the book and began to read. The scene faded and Kane was left standing in a hallway with the Phantom. He couldn’t get Reese’s words out of his mind. A service for the culled AND the Hundred? Was she referring to the Hundred who were in the Sky Box? What had happened to them? Kane’s mind whirled with possibilities, each more improbable than the last. He couldn’t think of a scenario in which all one hundred of the delinquents in Lock Up died. Unless. There had been some vague talk at Council meetings about sending a group of people to the ground to see if it was habitable. Had they chosen to send the young people? Clearly they didn’t survive if so. Perhaps this was why Jaha died hated and unmourned. He had culled many of the Ark’s citizens and sent the children of the Arkers to their deaths. Kane wondered what role he had played in all of this. It was his plan after all and he was part of the Council that must have ratified the decision to send the delinquents to Earth. But then so was Abby Griffin, and would she really have voted to send her own daughter to an almost certain death? Things must have become desperate indeed on the Ark for her to resort to that. He was surprised not to have seen her in this future shadow, or himself. Perhaps those lessons were yet to come, or perhaps… no, that couldn’t be. He shut the thought that had sprung to mind away. It was too horrible to contemplate.

“I think our time is nearly over, Spirit for the night draws to its close. Who was the person we saw dead in the Chancellor’s quarters?”

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come took Kane through the Ark once again, still not speaking, still gliding spookily above the ground although Kane had started to get used to it by now and was less frightened than he had been. They ended up in Kane’s own quarters. He felt some relief to be somewhere familiar at last but the feeling soon faded, for this was his room but the things inside it were not his. The basic furniture remained the same – a bed, a chair and table but his few possessions had gone. His music player no longer sat on the cupboard next to his chair, his whisky had been replaced with a cup of water. His table, usually virtually empty, it’s few items neatly arranged, was in disarray with objects strewn all over it. There was no way this was his office, unless he had been robbed or had a complete personality transplant. If he had already changed so much there wouldn’t be the need for the three spirits he was currently enduring. There was a hiss behind him and he turned to see a man walk into the room. It was Peters, who was one of his assistants in his regular time zone. He sat down in Kane’s chair and started writing on a tablet on Kane’s table. Quarters on the Ark were allocated on a strict basis according to rank and role. If someone lost their position they lost their quarters and had to move back into less spacious accommodation. This was the quarters of the Head of the Guard, the Second in Command. Only the person in that position could occupy this room. Kane was confused as to where this left him.

He turned to question the Phantom, even though he knew it was useless but as he did so the scene changed yet again and they were in the Sanctuary, the place where the Eden Tree lived and was worshipped by his mother and her kind. It was also a place people came to reflect and find a moment’s peace. The Eden Tree was still there, still as small as ever and taking centre place on a long table filled with objects and mementoes. On the wall was a plaque containing the names of all the Chancellors the Ark had had in a history stretching back to long before the Earth became uninhabitable, before Unity Day to when each station was a separate entity. There were quite a few names on the plaque. For some reason Kane didn’t want to look at it, although the Phantom was directing him towards it with his bony outstretched hand.

“These shadows you have shown me tonight, are they of things that will be, or things that may be?”

The Ghost remained silent _(did you really think it would ever speak, dear reader)_ and pointed at the plaque. Kane edged towards it, filled with a dread that sat heavy on his stomach making him feel sick. His limbs were leaden and he moved as though the Ark’s gravity had somehow become stronger and was making it hard to lift his feet off the ground. He saw the name of Thelonious Jaha at the bottom of one column and the dates of his birth and death and Chancellorship. His reign ended two years previously, presumably around the time of the Culling Reese Lemkin was talking about. He must have sacrificed himself along with the others in Section 17. Kane never would have expected that from him and he felt sadness at the loss of Jaha and something like pride in the manner of his death. He had shown his people his heart after all.

Kane’s eyes drifted up to the next column and there was his own name, together with his birth date and another date newly scratched into the metal. It was the very day he was now seeing with the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come – the date of his death. He cried out in alarm.

“No, Spirt! Oh no! Am I the man on the bed? The man who died so unloved and unmourned. Say it isn’t so!”

The hood of the Ghost moved slightly from side to side as though to say he could not deny it.

“How did this happen? It can’t have been my time so soon. I’m still young. How did I die, please tell me.” Kane knew nothing good was going to come of finding out how he died but he had to know.

The Ghost shook his head again and Kane begged again. “Please. I need to know. I want to change but how can I if I don’t know where I went wrong, how this came to be?”

The Phantom made no sound, of course, but his shoulders dropped in what Kane thought was a sigh of resignation. There was no fanfare this time, no trip through the hallways or dramatic flare of the cloak. They simply materialised in Lock Up again, in a cell Kane recognised as the one Clarke had been held in, where he had witnessed her tearful conversation with Abby about Jake. Her drawings were all over the walls and the floor. Abby was sitting on the floor, tracing the chalk lines with her fingers. Her long hair hung loose around her face, shielding it from his view. She wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a thin blue vest and he could see the sharp bones of her shoulder blades sticking out through it. She looked small and fragile, not at all like the force of nature he had once loved and still grudgingly respected _(yes he was ready to admit that much at least, dear Reader)_. The door opened and the Guard from the earlier shadow entered.

“Prisoner Griffin, you have a visitor. You may have five minutes and no more.”

Prisoner? What had Abby done to end up here? He wasn’t entirely surprised because she had always been stubborn and altruistic and had flirted with trouble numerous times over the years. Something she had done had finally caught up with her. He was intrigued to find out what.

Abby’s visitor turned out to be Sinclair. He pushed past the Guard who left the room closing the door behind him, and headed straight for Abby. She stood up and Sinclair grabbed her in a hug, clasping her tight to him. She stood with her arms limp at her side for a moment and then slowly her hands moved up his back and she pressed him close as well. She buried her head in his chest and Kane could hear her sobbing.

“Shush, shush, it’s okay,” said Sinclair in soothing tones.

Abby pulled away from him but stayed close, within touching distance. “It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay.”

“You did what you had to do. The situation had become intolerable, you know that. We all wanted it to happen, you were the bravest of us, that’s all.”

Abby paced the small room shaking her head. “There had to be another way. I should have waited. We could have done something else, something less… final.”

“Like what? We discussed this. Look.” Sinclair drew her to sit down on the bed and sat next to her, holding her hand in his. “He had become a tyrant. He couldn’t see the consequences of his actions. You tried talking to him, we all did. He wouldn’t listen, too convinced he was right. If we’d waited hundreds more would have died. He said it himself in that damned population reduction plan. The sacrifice of the few for the many. Well this was the sacrifice of one to save all of us.”

“He wasn’t expecting it, that’s the worst thing. He let me inject him. He trusted me, even after everything. He trusted me and I killed him. And right at the end, he knew. He knew what I’d done and he just looked at me and he was the old Kane for a moment, Sinclair, I know he was. Oh, God.” She collapsed sobbing uncontrollably in Sinclair’s arms. “I loved him once.”

Sinclair held her close. Tears slipped silently down his face. “I know, so did I, but he wasn’t the same man, Abby. He wasn’t the Marcus we knew when we were kids. He hadn’t been for a long, long time.”

You can imagine the effect watching this scene was having on Kane, dear Reader, probably much the same as it is having on you. He realised early on in the conversation that they were talking about him and the only words that circled his mind again and again were “I killed him.” Abby was the reason he was dead. She had injected him with something and watched him die. The girl he’d danced with all those years ago, the first woman he’d kissed and made love to. The only woman he’d ever loved. How could she? At first he felt a terrible anger towards her. It welled up from his gut and seemed to suffuse his limbs with a burning heat. The feeling only lasted a few seconds, though. Her tears and her sadness overwhelmed him and he cried along with her. He wept for whatever terrible things he had done to force her into this action. He wept for the person he’d become, tyrannical, friendless, hated. Most of all he wept for what could have been, for the boy he used to be and the man he never was. It wasn’t too late, was it? This was only one possible future; things could change.

He turned to the Phantom and clutched at its robes. “I’m not the man I was. I will not become the man that causes all of this now that you have shown me what could happen. Why show me these shadows if I am beyond hope?”

The Ghost began to shake. Kane was emboldened. “Please tell me I can change what these shadows have shown?

“I will honour Christmas in my heart and try to keep it every year from now on with my fellow Arkers. I will live in the Past, the Present and the Future and respect all of them. I will listen to others and learn from my mistakes. I will love and let myself be loved in return.”

He grabbed the Spectre’s hand. It tried to free itself from his grasp but he held on as tight as he could. The Phantom was stronger in the end and twisted out of Kane’s grip. As Kane put his hands together to beg like he never had in his life for his fate to be reversed the Spirit’s cloak collapsed in upon itself and drifted into a heap on the floor at the foot of a bed. Kane looked around. He was back in his room, back where this whole sorry business had started.

 


	5. The End Of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane has been visited by all Three Spirits and now he must start to make amends if he's going to change the future.

Kane found himself back in his bed, his covers over him snug and warm. He glanced around the room, taking everything in. It was indeed his room, his things. Everything appeared to be as it should. “I will live in the Past, the Present and the Future,” he repeated, as he threw his covers off and leapt out of bed. “The Spirits of all Three will live with me forever. Thank you, Seymour, thank you!” He was full of joy to be back where he belonged but his face was still wet with tears following his encounter with the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come and the scene he had witnessed with Abby. He wiped them away as he moved round the room opening the cupboards, examining their contents. His clothes were still there, the boots, jacket and t-shirts he had seen Nygel stealing were stored neatly on his shelf.

His music player was sitting on top of the cupboard, shiny with promise. He went across and scrolled through his music collection, ignoring his favourites. He wasn’t in the mood for Wagner today and might never be again. He chose Vaughan Williams, The Lark Ascending, a piece that had previously annoyed him with its lilting violin and cheery evocation of a summer’s day. He hadn’t wanted to think of bird song he’d never hear or meadow flowers he’d never smell. Thoughts like that just brought the grey bleakness of the Ark into even sharper perspective for him. Now, though, his spirt soared as high as the Skylark and filled him with hope. Maybe one day he would see the Ground, stand in a field of wildflowers and inhale their heady scent, hear the wind rustling the grasses, feel them brushing against his bare skin. Maybe getting to the ground was a solution worth exploring properly.

He sat at his desk and uncapped his whisky, took a deep breath and let its peaty vapours fill his nose. He thought for a second and then took a swallow straight from the bottle, enjoying the burn of the whisky trickling down his throat and settling in his stomach. Its heat spread out along his limbs to his fingers and toes and he closed his eyes to intensify the feeling, letting his mind go blank for a moment, concentrating purely on his senses. “I know the future can be changed. I know it will happen,” he said aloud because he needed to hear the words, to feel that their promise was real.

He waited until the music finished then got up to get dressed. He pulled on his black canvas trousers and laced up his combat boots. He went to pick out a black t-shirt but stopped, his hand hovering over his small collection of clothes. Instead of the black he chose one of the grey ones he usually wore for sleeping and decided not to wear his jacket. It was a warm enough day for short sleeves. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing dark brown eyes staring back out of a pale face. His nose was long and slightly crooked, his lips thin and pressed together in a hard line. His brow creased as he examined himself critically for the first time since he was a teenager. His hair was still neat even though he’d just got out of bed, not a strand out of place. It wasn’t a bad face, handsome even, but cold he had to admit. He tried to smile but it felt ridiculous and forced and then the sight of him attempting it made him smile more naturally and he saw his eyes light up, small crinkles appearing in his skin at the edge of them. His hair was still too perfect, though; it made him look severe, so he ran his fingers through it, succeeding only in parting the strands like rows in a cornfield. The oil he used to keep it slick coated his fingers. He grabbed a towel and wiped them clean then ran the towel over his head, rubbing at his hair until he thought he had got as much of the product off as he could. He removed the towel and looked again in the mirror. His hair was sticking up every which way as though he’d been dragged backwards through a ventilator shaft. He laughed out loud at the sight. It was a splendid laugh, dear reader, for a man who had barely cracked a smile in twenty years. It was deep and throaty and held the warmth of a winter’s day spent by a crackling fire.

Kane neatened his wayward hair down as best he could so that it retained some of its old shape and remembered why he oiled it in the first place. There was one curl of hair that refused to obey his fingers; no matter how many times he tucked it back with the others it flopped loose, hovering at the edge of his vision. He gave up trying to tame it and let it hang there. He’d get used to it, he was sure. He ran his hands over his chin, the stubble of a nascent beard grazing his fingers. He didn’t know what day it was or how long he had been away with the Spirits or how much work he had missed. By the look of his stubble it hadn’t been as long as he thought, but either way he didn’t care. He decided not to shave the stubble and let it grow, at least for one day.

A noise out in the hallway caught his attention. It sounded like people laughing and singing. He went to the door and opened it, looking out into the familiar corridor. A young boy was passing with a friend and they were in high spirits.

“What day is it?” asked Kane.

“Eh?”

Kane refrained from rolling his eyes at the boy’s poor diction and repeated his question. “What is the date today?”

“Today?” replied the boy, looking at Kane as though he had dropped in from another galaxy. “Why, it’s Christmas Day of course.”

“It’s Christmas Day!” said Kane to himself. So he hadn’t missed it. Everything the Spirits had done they’d completed in one night. He wasn’t surprised now about anything. No wonder he only had a little night shadow for stubble rather than the full-grown beard he would have expected after the couple of weeks he thought he had been away with the Spirits.

The boy gave Kane a funny look and made to move off with his friend but Kane stopped him.

“Do you know if Raven Reyes is still making things in Engineering?”

The boy nodded. “I passed there not five minutes ago. She had quite a line of people.”

“Wait there a minute.” Kane went back into his room and came back with his tablet. He drew a picture on the screen and handed it to the boy. Can you ask her to make that for Councillor Kane as a matter of urgency? Wait for her and then come straight back here. If you do that you can keep the tablet.”

The boy was delighted, but still hesitant. “Are you sure.”

“Yes I am, now hurry and make sure you don’t miss her.”

While he waited for the boy to return Kane put on some different music, Fauré this time, and settled down to consider how they could save their people without resorting to his population reduction plan. The facts were stark; they didn’t have enough oxygen, people were already suffering and they were running out of time. No matter what other people thought, he hadn’t devised the plan because he was a psychopath who liked killing people. It was a way to buy them time, of which they had so little. No matter which way he looked at it he couldn’t see another way, except going to the ground. In his nightmare future that had been tried and looked to have failed. The Hundred had died either on the way or once they had landed. Maybe Earth simply wasn’t survivable, but was there any way they could find out? Kane sat back in his chair, staring into space _(literally, dear Reader, he was looking out of his window)_. Maybe another perspective would be helpful. He didn’t have to do this alone, he could ask Sinclair, or Abby. Maybe they could form a working group to look at the issue, no holds barred, anything goes. It would be interesting to see what came out of such a meeting of minds. He made a note to schedule a sub-Council session as soon as the holiday was over. There was no time to waste.

The knock came at his door sooner than he had anticipated and when he opened it the boy handed him the object he’d requested. Kane turned it over in his hands, examining it from every angle. Raven had done a good job in such a short space of time. He was impressed. The boy held the tablet out to him but Kane shook his head. “No, I said you can keep it and you can.”

The boy smiled with delight. “Thanks, Sir. Er, Merry Christmas!” He ran off before Kane could change his mind.

“Merry Christmas!” said Kane to the boy’s retreating back. It was the first time he’d said those words in probably twenty years and they felt good on his tongue. “Merry Christmas,” he repeated quietly, and closed the door. He gathered a few essential items he would need for the day ahead and then left his quarters. There were quite a lot of people milling around the hallways of the Ark, some standing and chatting, others striding purposefully to other destinations. All seemed happy and full of Christmas spirit. Kane greeted them with “Merry Christmas” and “Isn’t it a wonderful day?” Some repeated the words back to him, others stood still in shock, looking at him as though they’d never seen him before, which he supposed they hadn’t, not this version anyway. Most people did a double-take as he walked past in his more casual clothes. “Is that Kane?” was heard more than once, followed by “No, it can’t be, but it is” in sceptical tones. He smiled and continued on his way.

As he rounded a corner he bumped literally into Sinclair and his wife. Sinclair glanced at her in barely disguised horror at this chance meeting with his boss on Christmas Day. Kane ignored his look and rummaged around in his brain trying to remember the name of Sinclair’s wife. They’d been together nearly a quarter of a century, he should know her damned name. “Kira!” he shouted when he suddenly remembered. “Er, Kira, and Sinclair. Hello. Merry Christmas. How are you?”

Sinclair looked at his wife and back again at Kane, a concerned look on his face. “Sir? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Splendid in fact. Where are you off to?”

“Erm, we’re off back to our quarters. We’ve just been to the Carol Service and now we’re going to relax and get something to eat.”

“So it’s over then, the Carol Service? I’ve missed it?”

“Yes, just now. You’re safe to head in that direction.”

Kane shook his head. “I was hoping to catch some of it actually. Oh, well.”

Sinclair frowned. “I’m surprised you wanted to go, Sir, if you don’t mind me saying. You usually hate the Carol Service. Are you sure everything is alright?”

“Yes, yes it’s fine. Listen. I don’t need you tomorrow, so you can have an extra day off, but I’m scheduling a meeting for the 27th with you, me and Abby. I have something important I want to discuss with you, so be on time.”

Sinclair stood in front of Kane open-mouthed, unable to hide his shock any longer. His wife tugged on his arm. “Come on, Jacapo, let’s go.” She pulled Sinclair away otherwise Kane thought he might have remained rooted to the spot for the rest of the day.

He continued on to the Mess Hall, which was his first destination of the day. As he entered, the chefs stood to attention and the small line of people whispered as they looked at him.

Kane walked to the head of the line _(he still retained some of his arrogance, dear Reader, he isn’t going to change that much)_.

“Can I help you, Sir,” said the Head Chef.

“Yes, you can as a matter of fact.” Kane outlined his wishes to the Chef who looked at him in a way that was now becoming familiar to Kane; it was best described as a cross between bemused and apprehensive, as though Kane was trying to trick him and any moment turn around and arrest him for a crime he didn’t know he was committing. “Can you do it?”

“Yes, we can do it, but it will take a while.”

“Then please go ahead. I’ll wait.”

Kane sat in a chair in the Mess Hall and watched the world go by. He hadn’t sat still like this doing nothing in, well, he didn’t think he’d ever done this, not even as a young man. He’d always been a driven man, unable to keep still, always thinking, always doing. Inactivity was anathema to him. It represented a waste of time, time that could have been spent doing something useful and productive. Now, though as he relaxed and let his mind wander, he found thoughts skirting the edge of his brain, drifting there, one after another. He didn’t try to chase them, just let them be, and slowly they coalesced into an idea. It was loose-formed and insubstantial, but it was the germ of a plan and he knew he was onto something because he felt a fluttering in his stomach and his limbs were tingling. He couldn’t wait to discuss it with Sinclair and Abby at their first meeting.

The Head Chef came out from the back of the Mess and beckoned to Kane. “We’re ready for you, Sir.”

Kane went into the kitchen where large pots of hot food were laying out on the side, covered with every lid and top the chefs could find. The food smelled delicious.

“I’m going to need some help with these,” said Kane. “Can you spare some people?”

“Of course.” The chef organised a team to help Kane carry the food to his third destination. There was one other stop he had to do on the way.

As they passed the control room of Go-Sci Kane halted the procession. “Please wait here. I won’t be a moment.” He went into the control room, which was empty, the Ark’s systems being monitored remotely from the engineers’ own quarters for this one day. He cleared his throat and then switched on the Ark-wide communications system.

“Attention, citizens of the Ark,” he said, his voice firm and controlled. “This is Councillor Kane. As it is Christmas Day, I have decided to allow extra visiting hours in the Sky Box, so if you have a child or relative in Lock Up then you can visit for longer than the previously mandated five minutes. Visiting hours are open now and will remain open until five pm. Thank you. Oh. Merry Christmas.”

He switched off the comms system. That was five hours of visiting time as opposed to five minutes. He assumed that would give even those posted in the most far-flung areas of the Ark a chance to get to Lock Up and spend some time with their kids.

He went back out into the hallway, picked up his package and continued on his way, followed by a train of chefs laden down with trays of food. In a few minutes they had reached their destination. The Guard on duty at the entrance to the Sky Box was clearly surprised to see Kane and his entourage, but he coped admirably under the circumstances and let them into the Visitor Room. Word soon reached the Duty Sergeant and he came out to greet Kane. “Sir, if I may, are you sure this is a good idea? You know what happened last year.”

“I do, yes, and I remember. It will be fine. Bring them in shifts, try to avoid putting the worst ones together. Separate Murphy from, well, everyone. The rest will be fine.”

The chefs opened the trays and layed the food out on the tables together with the cutlery. No knives, though, Kane hadn’t completely lost his mind.

He stood in the corner, arms folded, and watched as the young prisoners filed in, their eyes lighting up when they saw the feast before them. They looked at each other and at him uncertainly. He nodded and they tucked in, talking excitedly to each other once their initial suspicions were allayed. Kane didn’t smile on the outside, he was head of the Guard after all, and not about to expose any chink in his armour to these people. They were still delinquents when all said and done. But inside, he was enjoying their happiness. Seeing their smiles, knowing he was responsible for them, felt good and he liked the feeling.

Clarke Griffin was in the second wave of prisoners to come into the visitor room. She frowned when she saw him, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. She didn’t speak and made sure she had her back to him when she ate her share. Kane felt a smile tug at the edges of his mouth and bit his lip to prevent it widening. She was so like her mother. Not like Abby when she was young, because she had been a carefree, vibrant young woman and Clarke was worn-down and troubled even at seventeen. She was like Abby now, stubborn, challenging, spirited, quick-witted, all the attributes that had driven him mad over the last few years they had worked together on the Council.

Just after Clarke’s group left, Abby walked in, or rather stormed in. She had long legs for someone so short and covered the ground between the door and him in three easy strides. He felt his stomach flip, he couldn’t help it; she was formidable, always had been. He never let it show, how she affected him. If anything, he usually went too far in the opposite direction, speaking to her coldly, casually, like she meant nothing to him.

“What’s going on, Kane?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean, look around you.” Abby gestured wildly at the table that still held a good deal of food.

“I’m aware of what’s here, Abby. I brought it myself.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “You brought it? Why?”

“Do I have to have a reason?” He was being obtuse with her on purpose because baiting her was something he’d always secretly enjoyed.

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. Eventually she found her voice again.

“I heard your message over the Ark comms.”

“Did you?”

“Yes! You know I did. Everybody heard it.”

“Well, that was the point of doing it Ark-wide.”

She laughed, out of sheer frustration with his non-committal answers to her questions.

“What is going on, Kane? Why have you extended the visiting hours? Why have you brought all this food? Only yesterday you stood in Go-Sci and told me bad behaviour should be punished not rewarded and then today you do this. I don’t understand.”

“It’s Christmas, Abby. Families deserve to be together on Christmas Day, isn’t that what you said?”

Now it was Abby’s turn to wear the look of bemused apprehension. “Yes, but since when do you listen to me?”

Kane shrugged, as though this conversation mattered little to him.

“Maybe I’m listening to you now. I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am happy, it’s just. Well, it’s just so unexpected.”

“I’m glad I still have the capacity to surprise you. Did you happen to see my mother while you were barrelling your way down here?”

Abby folded her arms in a copy of Kane’s stance and gave him a wry smile. She’d obviously decided to play along with this temporary madness of his.

“I did see her, she’s in the Sanctuary having her Christmas meal with her friends. Your chair awaits you, if that’s where you’re going.”

“I’m heading there now. What are you doing?”

“I promised Raven I’d call and see her and then I’ll come back here to spend some time with Clarke seeing as you’ve so kindly given us extra visiting hours.”

“Why don’t I walk with you then.” It was a statement, not a question, and Abby didn’t answer, just headed out of the door and Kane followed.

They walked in silence most of the way. Abby was thinking furiously, he could practically see the cogs turning in her head. He felt bad, just a little, because his behaviour was clearly causing her some turmoil and she didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Eventually they arrived at Engineering.

“This is where Raven is,” said Abby.

“I know that,” replied Kane, more gentle in his tone than he was before.

Abby sighed. “Yes, of course you do.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a second. She finally decided to broach the subject with him.

“You seem different.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you seem, well, just different. Your hair is, different. You’re not wearing your uniform. You’re…” Abby was struggling to define what had changed about him he could tell.

“Different?” he offered.

She glowered at him, but then smiled tentatively. “Has something happened?”

Kane decided that the time for games was over. He wanted to talk to her, had to talk to her. There were things he must set right.

“Something has happened, yes, and I want to tell you about it, but now’s not the time. Maybe later, after dinner. Will you meet me, in our old place?”

“In our old place?” The look on Abby’s face had turned from bafflement to worry.

“Do you remember where it is?”

“Of course. I… I’m surprised you do that’s all.”

Kane reached across and touched her hand, let his fingers play very gently across hers, a move so delicate she might not know it was there, but she did, he could see it in the way her pupils grew larger, her eyes widened, then narrowed as her brain whirred.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “Meet me at eight.” With that he turned the corner and left her standing alone in the hallway. He could feel her eyes burning into him through several feet of metal, tile and wall.

Lunch was over by the time he got to the Sanctuary. The scene was almost exactly as it had been in the shadow shown to him by the Ghost of Christmas Present, except Nygel didn’t seem to be around for which he was grateful. He had plans for her and she wasn’t going to get away from him this time. The Lemkin family were there, though, sitting at the far end of the table. He couldn’t think why they were at his mother’s table, but he supposed they could be followers of hers. He hadn’t seen them with her before, but then he usually rushed past her with his head down so that was hardly surprising. His mother looked up as he approached, her eyes widening with pleasure when she saw him deliberately heading towards her.

“Marcus?”

“Hello Mother.” He bent down and kissed her cheek. It felt a little papery beneath his lips and he realised she was getting old. He’d never noticed until now. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, son. Are you going to join us?” She looked at him with the familiar mixture of hope and resignation she reserved just for him. The hope part was never usually fulfilled.

“I’d be happy to, just for a while.”

Vera patted the seat next to her and beamed as she looked around the table. Everybody else smiled uncomfortably. Kane felt like the damp cloth that puts out the fire. The room had been in high spirits when he arrived and now there was a deafening silence. He was not good at small talk as you may remember, dear reader, and as he scrambled about for something to say the silence lengthened and deepened. He felt like getting up again and leaving when his mother tried to come to the rescue.

“Why don’t we have a drink?” she suggested. There was an intake of breath around the table and Kane could imagine why. Moonshine was illegal on the Ark and punishable by, well you know what. No one was going to admit to owning that let alone drinking it in front of the Head of the Guard. Kane couldn’t stand this atmosphere any longer, it was why he hated social gatherings in the first place but this time he wasn’t going to run away. He was going to face up to it and fix it himself.

“If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, then you know that’s illegal.” He looked around at the worried faces. “But as it’s Christmas, I suppose we could make an exception, just this once.” No one moved, perhaps sensing a trap. What kind of man had he become, that people were so scared of him? He knew the answer to that now, after his visitations. He was the kind of man who stuck to the rules too strictly, left no room for interpretation. Well, that was changing as from today.

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” he said and reached under the table where he suspected the moonshine was hidden from the furtive glances of the guests. He pulled out the flagon and poured himself a drink, downing it in one. It immediately went to his head, leaving him feeling dizzy. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday and the drink was potent.

He poured a cup for his mother and then ended up going round the table giving everyone a drink.

He remembered the game Nygel suggested in the shadow and thought that might be a good ice breaker. “Have you heard of the game Yes and No?” he asked the guests. There was a murmur of approval around the table and lots of nodding.

“Of course we do, darling,” said his mother. “We play it every year.”

“Well why don’t we play it now. Reese, why don’t you choose the character?”

Reese looked at him curiously. “You know who I am?” she asked in the direct way that children often had.

Kane was flustered for a moment. In real life, as it were, he had never met or heard of the Lemkin family.

“Er, I think I’ve seen you in Doctor Griffin’s office, overheard her talking with you. Sorry.”

Reese and her father visibly relaxed. “Okay then. I have a character in mind.”

The game began and Kane knew after two questions which character she was. Yes you’ve guessed it dear reader, she was Little Red Riding Hood. Kane kept quiet about his knowledge, offering up misleading questions when it was his turn. He was enjoying this game much more in reality than he did when he watched it with the Ghost of Christmas Present. After a round of the game and two rounds of drinks everyone had forgotten he was the Head of the Guard and conversation flowed naturally once again.

Kane sat back and started to relax. Now that he’d been accepted he was able to withdraw a little from the conversation without seeming unsociable and he took the opportunity to sip his moonshine and reflect on the scene in front of him. This was what life was about. It was about the connections you made, the relationships you built, big and small. When he’d seen the corpse on the bed in the future shadow he’d known deep down that it was him but he hadn’t been able to admit it to himself. He was the hated one, the one with enemies, not friends, the one who had no one to eulogise him because he didn’t mean anything to anyone. He hadn’t had a single positive influence on anyone’s life since he was sixteen and first kissed Abby Griffin. They’d had a couple of good years together and then he'd taken even her down with him. She who he’d thought shone brighter than the stars in the universe with her infectious laugh and her optimism. He’d dragged her down into the mire until she was bitter and couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him. She’d married someone else and who could blame her. He knew she’d loved Jake and he’d thought she’d hated him. But there was that metal Christmas tree, brought out every year and carefully wrapped up again until the next time. What did that say about her and how she felt about him?

“Marcus?”

He became aware of someone talking to him. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

It was his mother. She looked concerned. He rested his hand on hers, gave it a squeeze. “I’m fine, mom.”

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, that you’re here. I’m over the moon, but I don’t understand why. You’ve never shown any interest in Christmas before. Yesterday you ignored me and today you’re sharing moonshine and chatting to people.”

Kane didn’t feel ready to unburden himself to his mother; he wasn’t sure he ever would. He was feeling light-headed from drink and lack of food and he had hours to go before he could see Abby.

“Let’s just say I’ve been doing some thinking. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, I realise that now and I’m going to make some changes in my life. But, I want to do it in my own time, okay?”

“Okay.”

There was silence for a moment and Kane was just drifting back into his own thoughts when she spoke again.

“Is Abby one of those mistakes?”

“What?”

“You know what I’m asking.”

Kane sighed. There were reasons why he didn’t let people in and this kind of conversation was one of them.

“She’s such a lovely girl, Marcus. She visits me all the time and she always talks about you. You were such a lovely couple.”

“That was twenty years ago, mom. We were young. She’s been married and had a child since then.”

“What difference does that make? He’s not here and you are.”

Kane cringed inside. There was one very good reason why Jake wasn’t here and he suspected that would always come between them. They were never going to get back to what they were, there was too much water under the bridge, but perhaps they could be friends again.

“Go to her, Marcus.”

Kane didn’t bother trying to explain to his mother, it wouldn’t do any good. “I intend to. Later.”

That seemed to satisfy Vera and she smiled broadly at him.

“I’m going to go mom. I had a long night and I’m tired. I need some rest before I see Abby tonight.”

He stood and Vera stood with him, enveloping him in a hug. He squeezed her back and she kissed him square on the lips, a big wet kiss like she used to give him when he was a small boy. Changing your life had some serious downsides, thought Kane as he extricated himself from his mother and said goodbye to the rest of the table.

Back at his quarters he stripped off his clothes and got into bed. It was the middle of the afternoon and Kane was not a man who ever  napped but he felt as though he’d been awake for weeks. He was tired down to his bones so he set his alarm for 7pm and let himself drift off into sleep. When he awoke just before the alarm went off he felt refreshed and more alive than he’d felt in years. His mind was buzzing with ideas and plans but he pushed them all away because the only thing he was focused on now was Abby. He didn’t really know what he was going to say to her or how he was going to say it. She was direct and appreciated honesty and that suited him so he would just tell her the truth and let what will be, be. One conversation wasn’t going to overturn twenty-odd years of hurt but he had to start somewhere.

He washed and dressed and gathered a few items he needed together before leaving. He felt apprehensive, but he knew that whatever happened, by the time he returned later that night, things would have changed, the journey to his new self had begun.

He made one more stop on his way to meet Abby to collect something he’d asked to be prepared for him earlier, so he was only just on time when he arrived at Mecha Station. He hadn’t been down to Sub Level 3 since the night Abby had left him, he’d never had cause. It was a junk area, filled with broken components and unwanted items, a perfect love nest for two horny teenagers but of no interest to the adult him, until now. He was surprised at how easily he remembered the way through the maze of hallways and tunnels. When he opened the door and walked through Abby was waiting for him, pacing up and down the room. She paused when she saw him.

“Why are we here, Kane?”

“All in good time. Why don’t we sit down?”

Abby looked around the room, her eyes alighting on the only relatively free space available. “You don’t expect me to sit on that,” she said, indicating the old mattress and bedroll that was laid out against the back wall.

“You didn’t used to mind sitting on that. In fact we did a lot more than just sit on it.”

Abby stared at him. “You have lost your mind.”

Kane shrugged. “Perhaps.” He sat down on the mattress and pulled from his bag the item he’d just picked up from the Mess Hall. It was a small cake, eggless of course because they didn’t have chickens on the Ark, sweetened with carrots and zucchini. The Head Chef had made it specially for him. “I haven’t eaten all day. You don’t mind if I have some of this do you?”

He’d forgotten to bring anything to eat the cake with so he just pulled a chunk out and ate it. It wasn’t until it was sliding down his throat that he realised how hungry he was. His stomach growled in anticipation.

Evidently Abby realised he was serious about sitting down and eating the cake so she sat next to him, hugging her knees, her head tilted to the side so she could watch him eat.

“Do you want some?” He held the cake out to her. She hesitated, then pulled a chunk out herself, popping it into her mouth.

“This is my favourite,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “Is that why you got it? Are you trying to prepare me for something?” She stopped then, mid-chew, as a thought occurred to her. “You’re not…you’re not ill, are you?”

Kane didn’t use her as his doctor, you can understand why, so he supposed it was natural her mind would swerve to his impending death as the reason for his strange behaviour. In a way she was right, his death was the catalyst, just not in the way she thought.

“I’m not dying, no. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alive.” He looked around the room, remembering the times they’d been down here, the things they’d done. Memories he’d hidden deep within himself were bubbling up one after the other like a chemical reaction. His eye rested on the old escape pod, covered with a cloth just as they had left it. It looked as though no one had been down here at all since then. “Do you remember when we found that? We were so excited.”

Abby smiled. “How could I forget. You were like a six-year-old pressing all the buttons, flicking all the switches.”

Kane smiled too at the memory. “Those were the days.”

Abby looked at him with concern. Her voice was soft and low. “What’s happened, Marcus? It’s nice that you want to trip down memory lane, unexpected, but nice, but that’s not why we’re here, is it? You wanted to tell me something.”

Her use of his first name brought tears to Kane’s eyes. They surprised him and he tried not to blink so they would stay within the confines of his sockets but his body betrayed him and a fat tear rolled down each cheek. He wiped them away with his fingers. Abby looked away, giving him some privacy. She wrapped herself up tight, arms around her legs, shoulders tense as she waited for him to speak.

At last he felt able to face her, to tell her the truths that had been uncovered to him the previous night. He didn’t know where to start so he began with the simplest of the truths.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

She turned and looked at him. “You’re sorry for everything? What does that mean?”

“I’m sorry for how I treated you, when we were young. And how I’ve treated you since. I’m sorry for who I’ve become, for the things I’ve forced you to do because of who I am, things you would never do without extreme provocation.”

“Marcus, what are you talking about, things you’ve forced me to do? I don’t understand.”

Kane didn’t want to tell her about the Spirits, the story seemed so improbable and it had all started to feel like a dream now anyway. Maybe that was the way to go, the way to explain this change of heart and soul.

“I had a dream, a really vivid dream, where I saw the past, present and future. I saw the boy I was and the man I am today. And then I saw the man I will be if I carry on like this. It was terrible, Abby, I was a monster. You had every right to do what you did.”

Abby put her hand on his arm. “What did I do?”

“You killed me.” He wasn’t going to tell her, and certainly not as bluntly as that, but it had to come out. If he kept it inside it would be one more thing he was hiding, one less truth to own up to.

Her eyes were wide with shock and confusion. “What?”

“It was a conspiracy I think, between you and Sinclair, and others no doubt, but you were the one who had the courage to do what had to be done. I’d become a tyrant, Abby, in the future. I couldn’t be reasoned with. I think I wanted to wipe out most of the Ark.”

Abby stroked his arm. The touch of her fingers on his bare skin was making the hairs stand up, giving him goosebumps.

“Thank goodness it was just a dream. I would never do that in real life, no matter how much I’ve wanted to sometimes.” She smiled to show him she was joking, a little.

He grabbed her shoulders, harder than he intended but he had to let her know that it was okay, that he was going to change. “Don’t you see, I think you would do that.”

She pulled away from him sharply. “I would not!”

“You would, if it meant saving everybody. You’re the only one that’s brave enough, the only one that cares enough, not just about our people but about me. You cared enough about me to stop me, by whatever means necessary.”

“Why are you telling me this? Do you expect me to apologise? Do you blame me?”

“No, no. That’s not it at all. I’m grateful. I’m grateful to you because you were my wake-up call, in the dream, and now, in real life. I don’t want to be that man, Abby. And when I look back over the last few years, and see the path I’m on and where it’s leading. I don’t like it. I want to change, and to do that I have to face up to myself and what I’ve done.”

“So this is like a twelve-step program, for tyrants, you’re making amends?” Abby smiled at her own joke, and looked hopefully at Kane, for him to react the same.

He laughed. The first genuine laugh he’d had in a long time. It was better than the one we heard when he was looking in the mirror, dear reader, because it was filled with joy and relief and overwhelming gratitude. They may have a long way to go, but she was willing to listen, to joke with him and maybe even forgive him eventually.

“I suppose it is. Will you help me?”

“Of course I will.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s going to be a tough job.”

“I know. And don’t expect me to change completely. There’s only so much I can tolerate, my mother being a prime example.”

“Your mother loves you, Marcus. The news that you went to visit her is all over the Ark.”

Kane rolled his eyes. “What have I started?”

Abby laughed. “Do you want to get out of here, maybe find somewhere to have a drink, and a proper seat?”

“Are you saying you don’t want to stay and try out this mattress, not even for old times’ sake?”

Abby pursed her lips in a look that combined amusement and exasperation. “I’m going to forget you even said that.”

“Don’t worry, a drink sounds good. Oh, wait, I almost forgot.” He rummaged around in his bag and brought out the object Raven had made for him earlier. It was a tiny metal star, made from copper wires bent into shape and dotted with crystals she’d salvaged from who knows where. He handed it to Abby. “This is for you, for the top of your Christmas tree.”

She took the star and turned it over in her hands much as he had done when he first saw it. She looked at him in surprise and wonder. “For my Christmas tree? How do you know about that?”

“I made it for you, remember.”

“Yes, I remember, but how do you know I still have it?”

Kane smiled and shrugged. “A lucky guess. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. We can go and put it on the tree now, if you like, it’s on the way to the Mess.”

“I’d like that. Merry Christmas, Abby.”

“Merry Christmas, Marcus.”

 

**Back to the Future**

Kane did live up to his word, dear Reader, and started to make changes in his life. He still worked hard, and worked his people hard. They were facing tough times and there was no room for slacking, but they worked together, as a team, and life in Go-Sci was much less stressful for everyone involved.

Kane set up his working group with Sinclair, Abby and Raven and they worked on his ideas for saving the Arkers without having to reduce their population. I’m not going to tell you how that worked out, loyal reader, because that’s a tale for another day, and another author.

As for Kane and Abby. I know you want me to tell you they fell back in love with each other and lived happily ever after, maybe even adding a new little star to their family (it was possible, Abby had a child, but Kane did not, and as he was in charge of the laws…). I’m afraid that’s not how real life works. There were a lot of problems for them to work through, Jake being one and Clarke another. And don’t forget, Kane was changing his ways, not his complete personality. They still butt heads on a regular basis, they still argue and spark off each other as they always have. But they’re getting closer, day by day, and they have regained their mutual respect, which they had lost many years before. There’s hope for the future, and as we all know, hope is everything.

Merry Christmas dear Reader, and as Reese Lemkin would say, God bless us everyone. May we meet again.

 

 THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have enjoyed writing this story so much I can't tell you. I hope that comes across and that you enjoy reading it even half as much as I did writing it. Thanks for sticking with me as always. Merry Christmas to all The 100 Fans :)


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